Editor Josh Resnek and the best known and most influential piece of dress up clothing being worn in Everett for the past decade discuss everything about the city, its past, present and future. The Blue Suit remains one of the best known personalities in the city. Let’s face it, how many suits have a personality? Good question, isn’t it. How many suits live and breathe, talk and walk and love to eat? The only one I know is the Blue Suit, my good friend and sidekick every Tuesday.
We met for lunch at Oliveira’s in Everett Square Tuesday right at noon.
As usual, Oliveira’s was spotlessly clean with the buffet looking mighty tasty and the meats being grilled on racks at the end of the walkway.
Sirloin, chicken, sausage and lamb on large skewers turned round and round broiling brilliantly, smelling brilliant, and dripping profusely their natural essence.
“Oh boy,” the Blue Suit said almost clapping his hands. “I am so hungry you can’t believe it.”
“I can believe it. I do believe it. I know you. I pay for you. I often go broke for the day trying to treat you to lunch,” I replied.
The Blue Suit handed two plates to the man behind the counter. “Fill them up, please,” the Blue Suit told him.
‘What do you want?” the Portuguese man manning the grill counter asked the Blue Suit.
“Wait a minute. Don’t I know you?” the counter man asked the Blue Suit. “Haven’t I seen you around city hall?”
“Yes,” the Blue Suit replied. “That’s me. I’ve met you two or three times but I was too busy to talk.”
“What will it be Mr. Blue Suit?” the counter man asked.
“How about some sirloin?”
The Blue Suit smacked his lips.
“Yeah. Cut me about a dozen slices of really rare sirloin with extra fat on it if you can,” the Blue Suit asked him.
The counter man took a skewer of sirloin. With a sharp knife, he sliced about a dozen portions of fatty, rare sirloin.
“Anything else?” he asked the Blue Suit.
Oh yes,” the Blue Suit replied. “I’ll have a half dozen pieces of sausage.”
The counter man took a skewer of sausage from the grill stack. He removed six sausages. He placed them neatly side by side, next to the sliced sirloin on the first plate.
“Should I get lamb?” the Blue Suit asked the grill man.
“Of course you should. You don’t have to worry about the cost. Resnek is paying, right?” he asked the Blue Suit.
“Roger that,” the Blue Suit said with a smile and a high five shared with the counter man.
“It is good to have friends, isn’t it?” the counter man said to the Blue Suit.
“Josh is a good friend. I don’t how he puts up with me,” he said. Then he ordered again.
“I want a half plate of chicken. I just love your grilled chicken. It is right every time,” the Blue Suit added.
Before he caught his breath he blurted out: :”Cut me a half pound of lamb. I love Oliveira’s lamb.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Blue Suit,” the man behind the counter said.
“Look at everyone looking at you” he added.
The Blue Suit looked around. Nearly everyone in the place was staring at him – part because he is so well known and part because he had stacked up so much meat, chicken, lamb and sausage – about 4 pounds worth.
The beautiful Brazilian woman weighing the plates expressed surprise when the Blue Suit went to hand her his.
“Are you sure you have enough meat on that plate, Mr. Blue Suit?” she politely joked.
“Oh yes. Please put it on my friend’s tab. I’m going to the buffet with this other plate. I’ll be right back,” he said.
The Blue Suit scanned the Oliveira’s buffet.
The buffet includes salad, olives, potatoes, rice, hard boiled eggs and those tasty little Brazilian rolls to die for.
The Blue Suit piled the plate high with rich and buttery mashed potatoes, a small mountain of white rice and salad which he doused with ranch dressing, black olives, eggs and onions.
The girl weighing his plates handed him the tally.
He handed that to me. I almost fell over.
$84 and this for lunch!
When she tallied my dish, it came to about $8.00.
“Boy, the Blue Suit has quite the appetite, doesn’t he?” she said.
“That’s putting it mildly,” I replied.
The Blue Suit and I took a seat at a table in front of a huge flat screen television. Can you guess what we watched?
Soccer.
The lunch crowd at Oliveira’s didn’t leave us alone.
Time and again people came over to the Blue Suit to say hello, or to ask him a favor, or for an autograph.
No one asked me for anything.
“Hah. Ha, Josh. Looks like you’re the odd man out. No one is asking you for your autograph,” the Blue Suit said. Then he laughed, and half choked on a piece of sausage that seemed to get stuck in his throat.
For about 30 seconds, I watched the Blue Suit trying to catch his breath. But the piece of sausage wouldn’t budge.
Now the Blue Suit was starting to flail about, He couldn’t breathe. He was turning a bit gray.
Finally, I stood him up – which is no easy task. People gawked at us from every side.
Some folks started to gasp a bit at the scene that was unfolding.
I wrapped my arms around him. I performed the Heimlich maneuver on him.
Then I heard a pop, and a huge sigh. The Blue Suit fell into his seat.
What did he do?
He began eating again.
“You need to be more careful,” I implored. “Yeah. But I’m so hungry Josh, and everything is getting cold,” he replied.
So much for our lunch at Oliveira’s Tuesday