I Say "falafel "...He Says "fill-a-fell"

Since I work and live in the same building, I frequently (really too often for my budget) go out to eat. At the end of the day, when the door to the condos is locked and the light in the little office goes out, I am ready for a change of scenery.

It was a particularly busy day and I was also cranking out some work for my HR consulting gig I have. So about 7:30 I decided that it was time to get out a bit. Besides, being lazy, I had not been to the grocery store and thus I had nothing substantial to eat in the house.

I went to one of my longtime favorite haunts, Jerusalem Cafe in the Westport area, not too far from me and actually within walking distance. I took the Queen Mary, walking there at night is risky and it is cold, even though parking is a mess.

The Cafe was not too busy so I hunkered in and ordered, perusing the latest issue of the local alternative newspaper, The Pitch. A few minutes after I was seated and before my plate of feta cheese, kalamata olives, onion and tomato arrived, a few young men began to arrive and sit at the largest table. One got up and went to the restroom. Pranced more like it. My gaydar (the ability to detect a fellow "family" member) went off. The table began to fill and the red-headed prancer returned to the table. He shook hands with another fellow who had arrived and they all began to chat. He ordered a Pepsi, not tea or diet but a Pepsi... that is odd. Maybe not.

My dinner arrived, a wonderful chicken kebob with a great small Greek style salad and rice. I got immersed in to eating when I noticed the overworked waiter heading for the guys' table. They began to order.

The suspect looked up at the waiter and said, "I'm gonna try the Fall-a-fell dinner..." That clinched it, he is not gay. No gay fellow would pronounce Falafel "Fall-a-fell". So I guess the ol' gaydar needs some adjusting...or I need to redefine my stereotypes!