Years ago, my wife and I took our granddaughter Alexis out for dinner at a local restaurant in Red Deer called My Big Fat Greek Restaurant. Alexis would have been six or seven at the time — that tender age where the world is still mostly safe, but surprises can arrive faster than your nervous system knows what to do with them.

The evening was pleasant enough. Food ordered. Conversation flowing. Then the music started.

Not background music. Not polite restaurant music. This was sudden, lively, unmistakably present music. And with it came a belly dancer, moving gracefully through the room, her costume catching the light as she passed from table to table.

Alexis reacted instantly.

She screamed and disappeared under the table.

Not a dramatic scream —...

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