I'm an American, born and raised, from California, where we have the best food in the world. I say I'm from California so you you'll realize that I am not just any American, I am more reasonable and know good food.

Do not Come to Papa Joes. It's not American food and even if you don't care if it's authentic, reading my story my save you some headaches. But it will surely be a good laugh as you wait for service..which is slow around these parts.

I was on business in Basel, searching for something spicy, maybe tangy, something that had kick. Sorry to say, the food in CH is boring.

Anyway, I walked into Papa Joes and thought I was walking into a saloon in the Wild West, only thing is, you can't carry a gun in CH, but the host, a short, angry, drug dealing looking type, "welcomed me" in typical Un-American fashion, "Hey! You one?"

I was deeply disturbed. This is customer service? I just walked up your staircase to be yelled at? Maybe he's deaf? No, it's Europe and this is par for the course. "I am sorry, am I one? You mean am I eating alone?"

"You go bar."

I went bar.

"Sir, do you have an English menu? Or one that I can use my google translate app on?" I'm from Silicon Valley.

"Hey! You go bar."

Wow, the margins on drinks must be huge that this guy can't have me off to the side studying a menu, so I can decide if I want to eat here.

I studied the menu and the McDonalds like pictures and began studying the food folks were eating. It seemed mass produced, but that was an easy assessment walking up to the exterior.

A pregnant woman and her husband walked up. They were Swiss, I believe. Some back and forth chatter and boom, our friend the host, was yelling at this couple. The woman was grabbing her stomach and her eyes were wide open. They left.

He wandered over to me, all 4 feet of him. He demanded I go to the bar. I was not in anyone's way, just in a corner studying the menu, literally 5 min after he had handed to me. At this stage he ripped the menu from my hand and walked to a table at the bar area, threw it there, next to half eaten fries. It was some else's leftovers, clearly they picked at the gourmet basket of fries. Sarcasm intended with the word "gourmet."

So I cooperated, noticing a large bandage or wrap on his hand, near his fists. Ah, this temper got his knuckles in a rough patch. Maybe he picked on an old woman or bothered a pregnant wife.

Classy. Papa Joes.

I had questions about the menu. Obviously. I am an American.

He had wandered over to the patio to smoke and stare at other eaters. Everyone seemed scared of this bully.

He walked back in, took the menu from me and put it away. I walked up and yanked it back and towered over the jack ass.

"I know you can get away with this service here. This terrible looking food but in America, someone would have punched your jaw so hard you would be on the ground, this business would be over because people expect much better service and do something about it."

Some generalities in my statement, but 90% true.

He wanted to fight.

There must be a meth epidemic in Basel.

I asked him to join me outside for a dance. "Want to see why America is Great again?" He didn't want to see, why.

I didn't vote for Trump, but enjoyed saying that line.

Outside the husband and pregnant wife were there. They caught the tail end of my justice stand. I apologized to them...they went to Burger King. Ugh! So American of them!

Day 15, another pasta italiano dinner. Got to love the diversity of good cuisine here. Sarcasm Intended.

Welcome to Basel.

Next up..read my review of Desperado