1 Dollar Pizza Friday After Work

There is little time to interview anyone. So then, I continue like this. Friday night. Everyone is getting off work. The dollar Pizza store which closes down from time to time is lit up. The line, at least when I got in it, was long. Nothing better than a dollar slice. The men behind the counter pumped out the pies, no worse tasting than any other pizza spots along the way. The smiles of everyone in line are amazing. Work week done. If you have a dollar in your hand, you can join and get a slice.

Everyone looks at each other in the eye and smiles. I got my slice and stood on the corner across the street and paused for the first time in nearly a month of running around the office life. Everyone on line at the Pizza spot has the same story. They stopped in line. Newspapers folded under the arm about to hop onto a train out to his house far away from the movement of the city. Before stillness there is a slice. There is little though i the faces of people eating. It seems  – it is – pure enjoyment.

On top of the pizza place, if you look up, are windows filled with clothes. Not many lights on. Perhaps because it’s friday. Perhaps they are all getting slices. Three kids about to start their night each dine on two for 2 dollars – a 6 dollar feast in the middle of manhattan for these youngsters. I can call people youngsters now. They are about to be Kings of Friday Nights all because of this place that opens and closes on a whim. I’d like to think the three men working behind the counter have figured out the American Dream.

Work your ass off and make a good product for a cheap price that everyone wants and take one month vacations. Maybe they rented it out as a club or art gallery when they were gone – somewhere warm. Vacations built of affordable Pizza.

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