Reruns -- Zoey's Pizza Worth the Wait

I'm on vacation this week, so I'm running a few 24-Hour Dorman posts from the past.

From Dec. 7, 2007.

Since I moved to these parts, several people have told me I just have to try Zoey's Pizzeria in downtown Marion. Last Friday night was the night.

The first thing I learned is that Zoey's is no chain with young automatons who write your first name on a clipboard and give you a lighted, buzzing pager to inform you when your table is ready. I quickly found that out as I walked inside past a line of people stretching out the door and into the cold. Zoey's is old school. You line up like overcoated Soviets waiting for shoes.

“Hey, the line's back here,” someone said.

“I realize that now,” I mumbled, walking back outside.

So the first triumph was getting inside. Then begins the silent dance. The line-waiters watch the pizza-eaters. Are they almost done? No, they ordered another beer. Is he starting to make a move for his coat? No, bathroom trip. Damn.

Just about the time my kids started dismantling Christmas decorations and shedding articles of clothing, the couple ahead of us said we could go ahead of them and take the next table. I will never forget them. Never.

Of course, it was well worth the ordeal. And once you finally land a table, you find out just how oblivious the pizza-eaters are of the line-waiters. Oh, how soon we forget.

The beer was cold. The cheese bread was suitably gooey and the Chicago-style pizza lived up to its billing, slathered in garlicky sauce, loaded with toppings and served on that thick, hearty, gut-busting crust. My kids, who usually eat only hot dogs and chocolate, devoured the stuff.

Sure, what started as a quick trip out for dinner turned into a two-hour odyssey marked by awkward moments, tests of endurance, human kindness and delicious pizza.

But I'd do it again