The Mafia Front Pizzeria
This one time, I went to a pizzeria that was definitely a mafia front, but I made it out alive to tell the tale.
We were in Myrtle Beach on vacation. My wife (girlfriend at the time) and I went with my mother and her boyfriend, and my cousin met us down there with his wife (also girlfriend at the time). Because of the generational gap, cousins and spouses decided to hang out for most of the trip and leave my mother baking on the beach. We played mini golf, went to arcades, and just generally had a good time together.
One evening, the four of us were out together when my mother called and asked if we could bring her back some food. She didn’t want whatever adventurous food we were having, she just wanted a pizza. And not just any pizza, she wanted something from a chain restaurant that you can get anywhere. We decided to entertain her request for pizza, but we weren’t getting her food from Domino’s or whatever she asked for. We were on vacation. She was getting something we don’t have at home.
After that phone call, we pulled into the first pizzeria that we saw. It was a tiny place on a corner, a few streets back from the actual beach. The cross street was less busy and we didn’t see many cars parked there; we figured it would be a quick in and out. We parked in the first spot, left the windows rolled down for the ladies, and my cousin and I went in to order the pizza.
On the way in, we noticed a guy sitting at one of the picnic tables next to the door with an unopened box of pizza. He looked really nervous and uneasy. I figured he was probably waiting for a first date or something, maybe a job interview. Take it easy, man, we’re at the beach.
As we stepped inside, the restaurant was empty. The room consisted of two tables on either side of the door and a counter with a single register. A hallway along the right side of the counter led back to presumably a kitchen entrance and bathrooms. I walked up to the counter, ordered a large pepperoni pizza, and paid the clearly distressed cashier. Man, what is WITH all these nervous people? The cashier said it would be maybe ten to fifteen minutes, so my cousin and I stepped over into the corner to stand. Didn’t want to get in the way of all the patrons, of course.
Maybe ten minutes later, two men in suits walk into the restaurant and step up to the counter. They asked the cashier if they could speak with the owner. One of the men pulls a paper out of his jacket and shows it to the owner. He said in a very steady voice, “I know you’ve seen this man. I need you to tell me what you know about him.” Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhhh.
It is at exactly this moment that a lot of weird details about this situation start to make a lot more sense. Lone pizzeria a full block off the main strip. Nervous guy sitting outside and nervous cashier. Super clean interior. NOBODY in the restaurant but us. This is a cover business and I just ordered a pizza at the worst possible time.
We’re standing there and I begin to consider our options. If we turn around and walk out IMMEDIATELY after these guys just asked for details on somebody, that’s going to look really suspicious. Plus, I’ve already paid for the pizza. I’m not leaving without my pizza unless I have to. If they pull out guns, I could flip the table that we’re standing behind and use it for cover. Alternatively, we could make a dash down the hallway that maybe leads somewhere helpful. I assumed there would be an emergency exit or something back there. We mutually decided to wait around without discussing the situation.
At least if bullets started flying, the girls would be safe. They could just take the car and go get help. Or, at least, they would be able to if I had left the keys in the car. Instead, the keys were in my pocket. They were in an unprotected vehicle with no keys, windows rolled down, in clear view of the door of the restaurant. Like it or not, we were in this thing together.
After a few tense moments, the owner and the men in suits stepped out to the table in front of the restaurant with the awkward guy. We stood around for a few minutes more and tried to make it slightly less obvious that we kept checking behind us to ensure they were all still sitting there. I didn’t want to give them any impression that I recognized anyone’s faces, or that I could pick them out from a lineup if I were asked to.
Finally, the cashier made eye contact with us as he brought our pizza up to the counter. I grabbed it, thanked him, and walked out past the men at the table as quickly as I could without looking suspicious. We got in the car and immediately drove away in the safest expeditious way. We didn’t say a word about the situation until we were far clear of the restaurant and reasonably confident they couldn’t read my license plate.
After that, the evening was fairly uneventful. We delivered the pizza back safely to the hotel. I assume it was right, neither of us thought or cared to check the toppings when we left. We just wanted to get out of dodge as quickly as we could. I couldn’t tell you if the pizza was good, but it was definitely the most interesting pizzeria experience I’ve ever had.
We were in Myrtle Beach on vacation. My wife (girlfriend at the time) and I went with my mother and her boyfriend, and my cousin met us down there with his wife (also girlfriend at the time). Because of the generational gap, cousins and spouses decided to hang out for most of the trip and leave my mother baking on the beach. We played mini golf, went to arcades, and just generally had a good time together.
One evening, the four of us were out together when my mother called and asked if we could bring her back some food. She didn’t want whatever adventurous food we were having, she just wanted a pizza. And not just any pizza, she wanted something from a chain restaurant that you can get anywhere. We decided to entertain her request for pizza, but we weren’t getting her food from Domino’s or whatever she asked for. We were on vacation. She was getting something we don’t have at home.
After that phone call, we pulled into the first pizzeria that we saw. It was a tiny place on a corner, a few streets back from the actual beach. The cross street was less busy and we didn’t see many cars parked there; we figured it would be a quick in and out. We parked in the first spot, left the windows rolled down for the ladies, and my cousin and I went in to order the pizza.
On the way in, we noticed a guy sitting at one of the picnic tables next to the door with an unopened box of pizza. He looked really nervous and uneasy. I figured he was probably waiting for a first date or something, maybe a job interview. Take it easy, man, we’re at the beach.
As we stepped inside, the restaurant was empty. The room consisted of two tables on either side of the door and a counter with a single register. A hallway along the right side of the counter led back to presumably a kitchen entrance and bathrooms. I walked up to the counter, ordered a large pepperoni pizza, and paid the clearly distressed cashier. Man, what is WITH all these nervous people? The cashier said it would be maybe ten to fifteen minutes, so my cousin and I stepped over into the corner to stand. Didn’t want to get in the way of all the patrons, of course.
Maybe ten minutes later, two men in suits walk into the restaurant and step up to the counter. They asked the cashier if they could speak with the owner. One of the men pulls a paper out of his jacket and shows it to the owner. He said in a very steady voice, “I know you’ve seen this man. I need you to tell me what you know about him.” Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhhh.
It is at exactly this moment that a lot of weird details about this situation start to make a lot more sense. Lone pizzeria a full block off the main strip. Nervous guy sitting outside and nervous cashier. Super clean interior. NOBODY in the restaurant but us. This is a cover business and I just ordered a pizza at the worst possible time.
We’re standing there and I begin to consider our options. If we turn around and walk out IMMEDIATELY after these guys just asked for details on somebody, that’s going to look really suspicious. Plus, I’ve already paid for the pizza. I’m not leaving without my pizza unless I have to. If they pull out guns, I could flip the table that we’re standing behind and use it for cover. Alternatively, we could make a dash down the hallway that maybe leads somewhere helpful. I assumed there would be an emergency exit or something back there. We mutually decided to wait around without discussing the situation.
At least if bullets started flying, the girls would be safe. They could just take the car and go get help. Or, at least, they would be able to if I had left the keys in the car. Instead, the keys were in my pocket. They were in an unprotected vehicle with no keys, windows rolled down, in clear view of the door of the restaurant. Like it or not, we were in this thing together.
After a few tense moments, the owner and the men in suits stepped out to the table in front of the restaurant with the awkward guy. We stood around for a few minutes more and tried to make it slightly less obvious that we kept checking behind us to ensure they were all still sitting there. I didn’t want to give them any impression that I recognized anyone’s faces, or that I could pick them out from a lineup if I were asked to.
Finally, the cashier made eye contact with us as he brought our pizza up to the counter. I grabbed it, thanked him, and walked out past the men at the table as quickly as I could without looking suspicious. We got in the car and immediately drove away in the safest expeditious way. We didn’t say a word about the situation until we were far clear of the restaurant and reasonably confident they couldn’t read my license plate.
After that, the evening was fairly uneventful. We delivered the pizza back safely to the hotel. I assume it was right, neither of us thought or cared to check the toppings when we left. We just wanted to get out of dodge as quickly as we could. I couldn’t tell you if the pizza was good, but it was definitely the most interesting pizzeria experience I’ve ever had.
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