We had a friend, Eddie, who used to quip that a now-defunct steakhouse in Chicago called Biasetti’s was “a great place to fight with your wife.”
We always thought this was a comedy gag, like “Galva, Illinois?! Of course I know Galva, I get all my suits in Galva!”
But after Eddie died, we took his widow out for dinner. Somehow Biasetti’s came up—(perhaps it was impishly invoked)—and instantly, the widow exclaimed, “Oh my God! The fights Eddie and I used to have in there!”
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