Circa: Very early eighties
Location: On Armitage just a little west of Pulaski
Gyros to die for. I used to work for a plastics place right down the block. This place was my oasis at lunch during a very boring day in the office. My father (being raised on pasties from the UP) had never had gyros before. I brought them home for my family after work and soon after I would get calls from home around 3:00 asking me to bring home dinner at least twice a week. Not a problem for me. I loved them.
I can't remember the name of the place. All I can remember is a counter guy with a red and white striped smock/shirt. Same guy all the time. Then he was probably about 35 - 40 but when you are 18 everyone seems forty!
He used to laugh when I would run in at 4:00 and tell him I needed 20 to go for 5:00. He always knew my dads family was in town from Iron Mountain, MI where gyros were a foreign and exotic food!
I'm having random thoughts his name was Frank?