I love buying things for $1. There is no change, no counting bills. At the corner store it doesn’t matter if there is a line or the clerk is on the phone or making a sandwich, I just make eye-contact, show the bag of chips and throw the bill on the counter, all wordless, casual and cool-like. Customers are probably thinking â€œWho is this guy and what the fuck are crab flavored Utz.â€ FYI, I now know that crab flavored Utz are dees-gusting.
It’s a little harder to feel like a gangster in 2 Brothers’ Pizza, unless you actually are one. I ordered in Mexican Spanish wey, but it didn’t really help. In the old days this place would be for sud-sopping. You’d wobble in on your way to the F train, try not to slur your order, slur your order, and then leave with new pimples around your greasy mouth.
These days though, not just drunks are out on Saturday nights â€“ the token early-drunk asked for the bathroom and was told to piss in the street. Teen skaters huddled over the low-boy table in their black skinnys and vans, a scruffy bike messenger ate alone with his helmet still on, a couple may have been on a date, a latino contingent sat with 3 baby strollers, and a guy in loafers and an ascot stood at the counter. As I was leaving, a well-dressed man, like a real adult, and his wife, both Upper East Side types, came in. Not bad for a place with only cheese pizza (it’s a fucking dollar, what’d ya expect) and a ceiling pipe that erupted when I was there. Oh, they also have rice and chicken, but why would you try that?
601 6th Avenue between 17th and 18th
32 St. Mark’s Place between 2nd and 3rd