Hush . . . sweet Charlotte
I live in this city. I am used to the empty buses, endless bicycles, motorbike deliveries, big trucks, big traffic, sidewalk vendors, protests, runners, hustlers, garbage, scaffolding, sidewalk vendors, school problems, rats, roaches, creative politicians, high taxes, low cleanliness, empty shops, stores robbed, high-priced food, zero parking, no ability to get crosstown, migrants, interesting mayoral aides and lack of safety.
However, despite popular belief — I have a friend. Born, educated, raised, working in, living in, family in, dating in, speech, accent definitely developed in — New York.
To him breakfast is a bagel, dessert’s got cheesecake, dinner’s a slice, transportation means the subway.
He considers Newark foreign travel.
He recently entered a foreign place. Charlotte. It’s in a state named North Carolina. Culture shock. Despite returning to us here where the cost is as high as an elephant’s eye, he is still in recovery.
Him: “Breakfast was a place named Famous Toastery. No utensils. When asked for the luxury of a fork and knife, I was given plastic utensils. Big-time dining there was fingers.”
He asked what’s to do in this town? Response: “We have many breweries!”
Then: “Anything else? Hard to drink beer all day.” Response: “You can visit the NASCAR Hall of Fame.”
He went to Starbucks. He saw people grab their orders and leave — but there was no place to order. Approaching the counter, he asked, “May I order a coffee?” He was told: “You have to use our app.”
Rain, snow, foreigners in from civilization, it’s schlep outside and download the app. Place your order for “one large black iced coffee, please” online.
Some mysterious something then responded in print: “Your order will be ready in 15 minutes.”
It came — but the wrong size.
Breakfast in Ruby Sunshine featured one young gentleman in a “Batman” cape.
The big dish? “Eggs Blackstone.” Poached eggs over a biscuit with bacon drizzled in hollandaise. However, local residents drizzled hollandaise even on old shoes.
Nighttime. Tupelo Honey restaurant. Inside brighter than a supermarket. My friend ate outside.
Music blared from the house speaker, a street guitarist kept plinking, cars whizzed by blaring music. The appetizers were fried this, fried that. A cocktail took 20 minutes to make.
Driven to drink
Pinot noir to go with dinner? No. The waitress offered a lesson on North Carolina state law:
“Under current rules and regulations, establishments cannot give more than one mixed drink at one time to a customer. However, you can get two beers or wines at a time just not more than two at a time.”
It’s a state where you can carry a gun on your person — but cannot have a sip left in your gin and tonic while you order pinot.
Home sweet home
Needing a slice of the spice of nice New York’s vice, mice and street rice, he flew home next day. Enough with Charlotte, or Gloria or Mary or whoever was there.
But do NOT pick on me. I’m sure it’s a lovely place. Just that we’re used to the price and — maybe soon — dice of New York.