Ah....the lure of a good pie

I sometimes have mental meltdowns

     We were downtown on Thanksgiving weekend.....the whole family.  We were going to meet John and Kathy for pizza at Gino's East.  Julia was still here, so it had to be  before 2002.
     Gino's East, on Superior, is one of the premier pizza places in Chicago.  It's ratty looking on the inside, crowded, noisy, and full of people eating pizza.  Or so I have been told.
     We were all going to meet at the restaurant.  It was cold.  A little moist.  Jackie had a cough.  Kathy could not make it  so it was John, Julia, Emily, Jackie and I.  Count em....five people.
     When we got to the restaurant, there was a large group ahead of us, a couple, a group of four, then us (the group of five).  They seated the large group.  They seated the couple.  A man came out and said we would be next, or soon to be next. We had been waiting about 20 minutes at this point.
     Meanwhile, the line had grown considerably longer.  It was now drizzling.  And getting colder.  We were all tired and just wanted to sit down and eat.
     So when the hostess came out and yelled, "Table for six,"  I protested.
     "What about us?  We've been here a long time and these people just walked up.  We were told it was going to be soon."
      The girl looked at us and said, "You are a group of five.  We have a table for six."
     I disputed her logic.
     "A table for six is just a table for five with an extra spot.  We should be seated next."
     Her reply:  "You are a table of five."
     Now in the first place, I don't know of any table made for five.  Yes for tables for 2, 4, 6, 8, 10.....but 5?  It's either a table of four crammed tight for 5, or a table for six with a little more room for 5.
     That's when I uttered the words I wish I could take back:  "I bet if I had an AK 47 we'd be sitting inside eating pizza by now!"
     She did look a little startled.  John said, "Time to go."
     I turned to the people behind us, who were also a group of 5.
     "Don't 5s deserve justice?  We shouldn't be treated this way!  Justice for 5s!"
     And by the way, I was yelling at full voice.
     The girls had already started wandering back toward the car.  John was lightly tugging my sleeve and repeating over and over:  "Time to leave.  Let's go.  Time to leave.  Let's go."
     I kept yelling, "Justice for 5s!   Justice for 5's!  Fives have the same rights as 4s and 6s," as John pulled me down the street.
      They say the pizza is great at Gino's East.  I've been told it's a neat restaurant in which to sit and talk and eat.
      But I've never been in it.   And I don't think I will until they make a table for 5.