Pizza is fantastic. It's delicious, not really nutritious but it hits the spot. In restaurant world, unless you're working at an actual pizzeria, pizza can have a different meaning.
Restaurant business, just like the legal profession, is full of people who a) abuse alcohol and b) do copious amount of coke. Funny how I ended up in both of them. I must have a thing for the crazies. And this is on the record - I do no nor have I ever done coke. So don't worry, Mom.
Any-who, apparently most dealers conduct their business in pizzerias. You know, pizza brings everyone together. Why do I know this? Again, in F&B world, just like you pick up tips on learning how to cook, you learn about how people get their fix. Case it in point, I had a fabulous manager who told me all about it. It was a particularly slow night and the conversation went something like this:
Me: "Fabulous, come here. Where do you get your booger sugar?"
F: "Well, let me tell you, I have 3 dealers - "If you seek Amy", the Pizza Man and J. Each is good in their own way."
Me: "Of course"
F: "If you seek Amy, Amy is a diva. I gotta tell you though, Amy is a punctual diva. If you tell her, 15 min, you HAVE to be there on 15 min. Her disadvantage is that she doesn't travel."
Me: "No home delivery? Amy needs to branch out."
F: "Listen Puta, Amy's product is good and she is fine without branching out. Although she only serves SoHo, West Village and TriBeCa. So since I live in FiDi, I may just stop by on the way home tonight."
Me: "Your verdict - Amy is so-so?"
F: "No, Amy is good but you need to work for her."
Me: "Seems like a lot of work. What about J?"
F: "Oh girl, J is shady. Unlike Amy, the motherfucker doesn't show up sometimes."
Me: "So, unreliable?"
F: "Oh yeah. And the pizza is so-so."
Me: "So last resort?"
F: "For sure. Like when you're drunk and on Grindr and need an energy boost for the end of your night, then you call J."
Me: "#FirstWorldProblems. How is the Pizza Man?"
F: "Well the Pizza man is always in the pizza shop. What I don't like about is that it's out in the open. That man has no respect for privacy."
Me: "Sometimes when it's that obvious, cops won't pay attention."
F: "Yeah, but I don't want to go to jail for this. I'm Mexican AND gay, I won't last there. And honay, djuknow, there ain't no Gucci and Prada in those jails."
Me: "Maybe you shouldn't it at all then?"
Followed by a *SLOOOOOOWWWW BLINK* and him sashaying away, then probably calling his dealer anyway. Well, kids, I guess the lesson in here is that when you want to have a pizza party, always have options. It's New York City after all.