Just a gigolo...

My uncle and cousin recently came stayed with us as part of a "broad" (rhymes with road) trip between my cousin's college graduation and a potential new job. We lingered over dinner, with lots of stories of family and politics.  One of my favorite stories was about my uncle and my great aunt - MH.   She never married (others would referred to her as a "maiden aunt"), but had 20+ nieces and nephews to dote on when she was younger.  She owned a jewelry company and often went on buying trips.  I recall my mom saying she'd taken her and my aunt to NYC on a buying trip.  They skated at Rockefeller Center and did all the usual touristy things.

During dinner the other evening, my uncle told another travel story.  My great-aunt was on a buying trip to England.  My uncle, having been in Europe traveling a bit after he graduated from college, came to London to meet up with her for a few days.  She was staying at The Dorchester, still a pretty tony hotel to this day.  She took my uncle for dinner at the hotel, and got a rather odd response.  He was wearing his Gonzaga University Letterman sweater (with a capital "G") and had long hair.  Long, thick, dark, wavy hair.  As a side note, when I young, I thought he looked like Jesus.

They ate dinner and my great aunt excused herself for a moment.  The waiter came over and said, "hey, nice job.  You're doing pretty well for yourself" while motioning towards my great aunt's seat.  It took my uncle a second to realize that the waiter that thought he was a gigolo.  The waiter then asked, "hey, what's the G stand for."  My uncle, in complete deadpan, "God."

We laughed until we cried at the table that night as my uncle told us the story.  My great aunt, upon hearing my uncle tell her the story that night after their dinner, responded likewise.