UWS, 3am: The night ends in the way most of my nights end recently: at the bodega on my block getting a sandwich and whatever else I can pile into my arms with any of the roommates. See, there are these sandwiches at all the bodegas around Columbia called The Spicy Special. They’re so good that everyone I know gets them whenever they’re drunk and sometimes when they’re sober. Basically, they’re legendary.
Up until this point the most exciting moment of my evening involves learning that our bodega not only makes The Sandwich and cheese fries… they also make chicken wings. I order the chicken wings, The Spicy Special and a bag of chips for Angela. We’ve almost escaped without being confronted for our ridiculous late-night binge when a man approaches me. I remember the conversation in bits and pieces.
We start talking because he says I’m beautiful. Actually, that’s a lie, I’m not sure why we start talking but I’m pretty sure he asked me about my sandwich. That’s really the only way to engage me in an animated conversation at 3 am. At some point he tells me I’m beautiful and keeps asking the color of my eyes (really? do people use that line anymore?) Here’s the conversation:
J- What’s your name?
T- Tiffany. What’s yours?
J – Yeah?
T- Something smells like weed in here.
J – That’s me (oh I forgot to mention that Justice is super ghetto) What are you doing?
T – Well, we’re going home so I can eat this sandwich.
J – Do you want to come smoke with us?
T – No. I want to go eat my sandwich.
J – Can I have your phone number?
T – Ok. Your name is Justice?
J – Yeah? Are your eyes green?
T – Yeah (clutching sandwich hungrily. thinking about the chicken wings)
While this scintillating conversation is happening, Angela is getting hit on by his friend WHO HAS A GLASS EYE. Their conversation is turning hostile. We flee.
I never realized that the worst place to get hit on and reject someone is a bodega. You’re defenseless unless you count the sandwich as a weapon – it’s not. You’re close to home and you risk bumping into them forever and ever for the rest of your time in the neighborhood. I need to move or give up The Sandwich habit. I will never.
Justice proceeds to text me for the rest of the night.
I will not be texting Justice back but I’m certain given my rate of bodega attendance the odds are we will meet again. That being said, last night I got hit on by the hottest guy… in the bodega.