(Originally
published 10/24/21)
Yesterday,
I encountered a seasoned subway panhandler, a woman, though, whom I had not
seen in quite a while—since the start of the pandemic at least. I am happy to
report that she was in fine form, her art as sharp as ever. Everything she does
is spot-on, beginning with her delivery, which is loud enough for passengers in
the entire subway car to hear. The lady also carries a considerable receptacle
for contributions and always has. This measure is win-win and especially
critical in the present COVID-19 times in which we live. Methodically, she
works the train from end-to-end—ten cars and ten spiels.
I do not
know her true story—mental illness no doubt plays a sizeable part in it—but I
always give her a dollar or two. She says that she is HIV positive, two months
pregnant, and rarely goes off script. Two months pregnant is carved in stone.
The fur or faux fur coat she was wearing was a new twist. Life in the land
down under is always unpredictable and never dull. And there are countless
men and women who roam the recesses with tales to tell—real and imagined—many
of them very unhappy ones.
And now
for a little life in the bright light of day. There was a street fair on Sixth
Avenue this past weekend—last one of the year—with a diverse group of vendors.
One participant’s tent sign read “Interesting Items.” I thought that it was a
unique form of branding, which covered a fair amount of ground. I got the
impression—a feeling—that the interesting items were somehow a euphemism for
junk, but I could have been wrong. There were numerous people perusing the
interesting
items. I was remiss in not checking them out.
My
outing’s final act found me in a pizzeria. One, in fact, that I had passed by countless
times through the years but never patronized. It always appeared grungy from
the outside. Its awning sign did not exactly draw you into the place. But then it
has been said that we should not judge a book by its cover, nor a pizza shop by
its facade. To my pleasant surprise, I had the best slice I have had in a long
time. In what has been a sea of mediocrity—some better than others—this
pepperoni pizza hit the spot. Despite it being a risky undertaking—and a
potential indigestion nightmare—the allure of pepperoni remains strong. My
latest pizza experience was perfect: a fresh, thin slice with the pepperoni
grease saturating the dough. There is good grease and bad grease in the world
of pizza. This was unquestionably the former. And when the stars align in the
pizza chase:
Grease is the word.
(Photos
from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)
