The maître d’ who might have been also the owner of the restaurant where I had dinner last night in Maastricht came back to our table after I had told him that I don’t eat pork.
‘Do you eat shellfish?’
‘I do eat shellfish,’ I answered firmly.
‘Are you sure? the maître d’ wanted to know.
‘I’m sure,’ I said. If you can’t handle a firm dose of awkwardness every day you are not suited or life.
The man was still standing next to us.
‘I’m asking this, because I know you,’ he said.
Then he left and thirty minutes later he served me my frutti di mare.