Food is a wonderful memory
It poured down rain yesterday in New York City. Buckets of wetness that splashed around the streets and collected in the pits of the subway stations, creeping up the legs of folks with pants that were fashionably too long. Like darkened transparent leg warmers.
I got a five dollar umbrella along with Lydia as we wound our way to her corporate studio after a fine breakfast I’ll talk about with photos at some other point.
Thor has the most fetching umbrella. Again, best represented with a photo but to keep things simple, I’ll just offer a glimpse of the Prime Burger interior. Paneled walls with matching clock, and an egg cream — perhaps my first — but things are fuzzy pre-blogging + google. Maybe I’ve had one before… Tastes like a YooHoo fresh from a cow with soda dispenser udders and a diet heavy in Hersheys.
We sat in chairs formed in a U shape with swiveling individual desk-like tables.
It was so… from-another-time. Much like all of this trip to NYC — it seemed like a bygone era muscled it’s way to the surface with modern twists. Ornamental tiles and white earbuds.
Service was too fast — and I forgot conversation, but we managed to pair the basic burgers with talk of steam boys and wrestling lesbians.
But that was yesterday and now I’m home, thanks to the Social Security card I shouldn’t keep in my wallet.