Boss Tweed one smooth canadian and her thrill of a lifetime Wherever Shannon Tweed goes, there is a moment in which all action stops and everyone turns to look. On this cold October evening, that moment comes when she passes the maître de's station in the 1000-foot high Top of Toronto restaurant. Conversations pause and waiters slow their paces, balancing their dishes more carefully, afraid that something somewhere has gone wrong. The piano music softens in the background. Ice cubes chime in half-full glasses. Accustomed to being the focus of attention, this conspicuous woman smiles at the upturned eyes and follows a small, attentive waiter to a table at the window. She is nearly six feet tall. She is blonde. She is startling to see in person; it is as though someone had breathed color into a striking statue of a young woman. The waiter holds her chair for her. When she is seated, the two of them are eye to eye. He hurries off to bring her a vodka and pineapple juice. Gradually, conversations resume, restaurant sounds gain volume; the moment of her appearance has passed. Still, as long as she stays, there will be darting looks of appreciation and longing from tables within sight of her.
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