Guest post from The Something Life
There was a time a few years back when I was working two jobs. Monday to Friday was for my real job, (aka the job that gave me a working visa and resembled an extension of my career trajectory) and the weekend was for my fun side gig, working as a server at Cafe Gitane at the Jane Hotel. It was a lot, but working at the cafe was too good to give up, for a while anyway. The extra cash, working with great people and when the day was done, enjoying the post-shift staff meal and drinks could last for a few hours, or that one time when they lasted until the start of my shift the next day.
One Sunday afternoon, a couple of days before Thanksgiving, staff drinks at Gitane wrapped up early so people could leave and get organized for the week ahead. Most were traveling for the holiday but I was staying in the city, spending the day with friends in Williamsburg. Wandering home that afternoon from the West Village to the Lower East Side, I remembered that I needed to order dessert to take with me on the day - the request was for a Petee’s Pie on Delancey Street.
An all too often occurrence post-Gitane drinks, the next morning I woke up in a daze. Did I even go to Petee’s? I scrambled around my room for evidence and sure enough, crumpled in my bag was a receipt from Petee’s for 1 x pie, to be collected on Tuesday, Christmas Eve. What pie did I order?
On Tuesday morning, I nervously collected the pie. Of all the flavors: apple, blueberry, pecan, key lime, I ended up with a seasonal spiked eggnog - probably not the one my conscious mind would have chosen. In the end, it was a hit on the day which made me think that maybe not all bad decisions come from Sunday sessions.
When dad visited me for the first time I showed him around my neighborhood. “There’s where I get my shoes repaired, that place has the good BEC, there’s the pie shop where I accidentally played pie roulette.” He wants me to move home.