The Steak Pit

Last night, Marina, myself, Wayne, Dave, Xavier, and Xavier's gorgeous gal, Genie Montana all went to the local Steak Pit for an evening of wining and dining. Our cousin, Ryan was performing with his jazz group and we were sittin' pretty like the Rat Pack right next to the action in a swanky ¾ moon booth.
After some Mojitos, Mango Margaritas, Long Islands, Captain & Coke, Standards, and Stella Artois we all relaxed into a long strand of hilarious anecdotes and slightly loud conversations on highly inappropriate topics. It's what our family does best.
Dave was recalling a time that he and Uncle Johnny had VIP box seats for Flyers games at the First Union Center. Most times he & Johnny would get so caught up with cigar smoking, schmoozing and boozing that the game was merely white noise in the background. After several cocktails, Dave was in a grand mood. That's when another VIPer hollers, "Hey! Paul!!" Dave, for some inexplicable reason, smiled broadly and yelled back, "Hey man, how the hell are ya?" It should be known that he has no idea who this man was or why he was calling him Paul. The man continued to talk to Dave as if they were old friends, "So, Paul, great season, man. Great season." Dave responded, "Yeah, man, but tough, tough season." He later discovered that he was being mistaken for Formula One driver, Paul Tracy. I looked up pictures and the resemblance is really uncanny.
Ever the prankster, every game following that evening, Uncle John reveled in engaging with the gentlemen by asking, "Did this guy have a phenomenal season or what?" It always managed to get the two of them many a free drink. Brilliance runs in our family.