So where do the posh nosh?
Eat out, takeout. NYC’s a restaurant town.
New York: Best bagels, best steak, best cheesecake, best pizza, best pastrami on rye, best sidewalk pretzels.
So, eight hours sleeping, eight working — and what’s left after finagling the books before the IRS sees them is spent eating.
The last human to braise at home was a caveman. Were he a New Yorker his lunch snack was probably dinosaur on rye — hold the mayo.
Global appeal
We got French, Spanish, Turkish, Thai, Afghan, barstools indoors, tables outdoors.
Outside you’re hit by a bus. Inside hit by a tab.
Shutdown drugstores even rent month-old sandwiches.
I offered one out-of-towner a classy dinner with a tuxedo’d waiter and maitre d’ whose palm is bigger than his mouth.
From some oasis like UpYourCrotch, Montana, she was into a burger at one of those highway toilet stops.
Me: “How’s Japanese, Mexican, smorgasbord?” She: “No.”
Me: “Indian?” She: “Uh-uh.”
Me: “How’s Korean?” She: “Not sure.”
Me: “OK, want Greek?”
We settled on Chinese until she asked, “What kind? Cantonese, Hunanese, Szechuanese?”
Whined & dined
Finally, a French restaurant. The place was busy but they managed to get me a front table.
She said: “It’s by the door. There’s a draft.”
Up again. We were two bodies clogging an aisle awaiting a table to become vacant. We stood there longer than we ever intended to stay there seated.
An available one accommodated eight. Too large. A really small one faced the wall. Another was near air conditioning and she had a cold.
Mis-steaks were made
Finally we’re seated. They brought rolls. She wanted breadsticks. Bottled water. She likes fizz. White wine from Czechoslovakia. She drinks French. Olives on the table. She’s salt-free.
My guest then whispered, “Twiggy, that famous British model, is two tables back.”
Not to miss a quickie interview, I ran over to get a quote. I plied Twiggy with brilliant questions.
She was polite. She didn’t say much — but she smiled a lot.
Model behavior
I gushed how gorgeous she was. Said how I envied her figure. I burbled on etc., etc. and blah, blah. I was so complimentary that even I didn’t believe me.
A day later the restaurateur called to explain why she might’ve found my behavior odd.
My Twiggy had been Goldie Hawn.
University of Pennsylvania. Students, parents, friends upset about pro-Hamas demonstrations on many a campus, began working the phones.
Calling one another, friends, relatives, outsiders. Send $1 each.
Unhappy with the sentiments of trustees and professors, each started making calls. They’ve begun a donor network.
They believe something’s out there that’s bigger than hate.
Right now that’s only in Pennsylvania, kids, only in Pennsylvania.
