Thursday, December 10, 2009
Dreamer's Pizza: "And juuuust befooooore the dawn... I awaaaaake to fiiiiind you're gone..."
Dreamer's Pizza is nothing out of this world, but their slice was probably the best that me and Bill had all day. The pizza shop itself is small and unassuming. Charming in the way that any decent pizzeria is, but not exceptionally so. In a sense, it's "just right," and that's kind of what the slice was like.
There was a perfect amount of grease, it was well cooked and had great ratios. The cheese wasn't AMAZING, nor was the sauce or bread, but they were all the embodiment of plain old Good. Can't complain, but won't rave about it, I will definitely eat here again if I'm in this neighborhood.
On the way out of here, I was yammering on and on to Bill about some unimportant shit and he said, "hey, Colin check this out," and pointed to his right. I was too busy talking his ear off about something totally unmemorable to pay attention and just sort of shushed him in order not to lose momentum on the briskly paced walk-n-talk I had going. By the time we were around the corner and I had finished my verbose philosophizing, Bill was like, "so did you see that sketchy dude sitting next to a box with a hole in the top and a question mark drawn on it?"
"What, no! Why didn't you point him out?"
"Oh. Well, whatever, what was in the box?" I asked as I turned us back around.
"I don't know. That's what I was wondering."
"Do you think he was busking? Like, he charges a buck and you get to reach in the box? That would be amazing. That is, hands down, the creepiest buskin routine I've ever heard of."
"I don't know, man! I don't know anything about it. You were too busy chit-chatting to notice when I tried to point it out."
"We have to look in the box," I declared as we trepidatiously approached our target.
And let me say, this guy really was one sketchy character. I don't think Celine could do his deviled-eyed, slack-jawed look justice. He was wearing an Oakland Raiders starter jacket like Naughty By Nature used to rock, and like, one of those biker bandanas that is head shaped and ties in the back with string and his like, bald eagles and tribal flames and skull and shit on it. He was sitting on a folding stool and in front of him was a stack of milkcrates with a box adorned with a question mark on top, a hole cut in the top. I walked over, mustered all my bravado, and said as tough as I could, "Hey, what's in the box?"
Dude just grunted. Like a fucking caveman.
"You mind if I look?"
So I peered in and there was just like, some tic-tacs, a subway map and a box of tampons. You might say that's anti-climactic, but it just reminded me how much I love this fucking city.
1850 3 Avenue
New York, NY 10029