Back in the day, Mike G. had a slick look that reminded me a bit of Morris Day, from the funk band the Time. Whenever I was around him when we were working at the Penn Square Hollywood Theaters, I was usually singing under my breath “Fishnet...black pantyhose…” to his chagrin.
We’ve been friends quite a while now, deciding to meet up for lunch for the first time in a couple of years. I met him at Scottie’s Deli, 427 N.W. 23rd, a lunch spot I have been wanting to try for a while now, but every time after a show at the Tower emptied—the perfect time for a sandwich, mind you—the place was understandably closed.