Like choosing between Mom’s and Dad’s house

When I first moved into my apartment in Park Slope, we lived above an empty storefront that had previously been a travel agency and before that, according to my roommate, some kind of brothel. A few months ago construction started and recently an entirely-legal pizza place has opened up. Like Brooklyn needs any more of those.

The opening of the pizza place was awaited with a mix of excitement and trepidation: my one roommate worried that it would bring rats and flies (and, already having some serious mice and roach issues, we aren’t exactly bereft of vermin), that our apartment would smell like pizza, and then WE would smell like pizza, and wherever we went people would smell us and suddenly want pizza. But my other roommate and I were excited at the convenience. Who doesn’t like pizza to be so close?

The rats/flies/smell factors haven’t materialized… yet (“Wait until summer,” my roommate warns, “it’s gonna be gross.”). But the pizza place isn’t exactly a godsend, either.

First of all, it’s not very good pizza. It’s passable. If you’re starving, it isn’t repulsive. The cheese is rubbery and the sauce is entirely indistinguised. And there’s really good pizza just a block up. My roommate thinks it’s in poor taste for us to buy pizza a block away and tries to hide it when she comes back, but I, on the other hand, take the long way and march right PAST the guys downstairs, hoping they’ll see me with it and get a clue.

Second, it closes at 11:30 PM, 12 AM every night which, hello? Who eats pizza before 2 AM on a Friday, anyway? Isn’t that the best time to eat it? The OTHER pizza place has welcomed me at 2:30 and 3 in the morning and damn, was I ever grateful.

But last night I came home and was ravenous and couldn’t even think of taking any extra steps, so on my way up I bought a slice. My roommate returned an hour later, also starving, and went downstairs. Midnight found us sprawled out on our respective couches, indigested and grumpy and not entirely sated, either. We paid for our laziness. I think we both realized it’s worth the walk.

Does anyone else live above/near a food place they don’t like? Does anyone else’s corner deli charge way more for milk than the supermarket? Why do we feel these obligations to our local guys when they’re actually hosing us? Or am I the only one?

6 Comments so far

  1. Art (unregistered) on December 30th, 2005 @ 12:22 pm

    I live above a pizza place too! Except, heh, this place IS the shop that everyone walks far to get to, because the pizza rocks.

    But, it’s never been a burden at all. I’ve never had roach problems or rat problems (though, my cat is probably to blame for that). And, although it smells like pizza when you first enter my building, it doesn’t smell in my apartment at all. Also, on the weekends, even some Thursdays, they stay open REALLY late, sometimes until 4 a.m. to accomodate all the drunken bar hoppers with munchies. And, it’s great because the staff is usually just as drunk as the patrons, or at least they tell you that to make you feel better about your lunacy. I’m not really sure.

    There’s also a market/deli across the street, and although I’m a very loyal customer, I do steer clear of buying groceries from it, because they do charge WAY more than the local grocery store chains. And, different employees will often charge different prices for shit, so it sucks when I go and I see that the stupid bitch who charges a whole dollar for canned cat food is working.

    But, I put up with it.

  2. 7Mod (unregistered) on December 31st, 2005 @ 10:43 am

    Hi, I’m not from NY – I’ll come for a trip next summer, maybe.
    I live in Milan, Italy, and I live above a sort of restaurant. A sort of “take away, but if you want you can eat there, standing with your glass of wine”. No mouses, no flies, but what a smell: shrimps, fish, and so on. We protested (meighbours called the police, too). On friday and saturday night, I WAS a fried fish, and my friends too, can you imagine that? Terrible, for months. They first ignored us, then changed something in the menu. Now they’re vegetarians, or some, and I got back my old sweet fresh air. Until next menu.
    FME (Forgive My English), bye.

  3. 7Mod (unregistered) on December 31st, 2005 @ 10:46 am

    “meighbours”? it was “n”, neighbours, I think.

  4. Aaron (unregistered) on January 2nd, 2006 @ 12:17 pm

    I always walk to Joe’s on seventh even though it’s blocks from me. I’ve had the pizza on the corner of my block exactly once, it tasted like cheesy cardboard.

  5. Catherine (unregistered) on January 2nd, 2006 @ 1:26 pm

    Hey Nora!
    It’s Catherine, your slightly hysterical SLC Phoenix predecessor. Anyway, I’m living in Astoria now… and for once I live in a neighborhood where I’m not scared of the local establishments. There is one particularly good Italian place called Sac’s which has the best coal oven pizza. I go there for dinner at least a couple times a week. Unfortunately, I can’t actually digest lactose, but oh well.
    I did lived in Harlem for a bit, where my choices were basically all fried foods, Taco Bell, Subway or take-out Chinese. I did feel an obligation to eat at some of the local places since I was gentrifying and all, but I ended up losing quite a bit of weight while living there, b/c of the lack of dining options and laziness (who me, cook?).

  6. settemod (unregistered) on January 29th, 2006 @ 6:06 am

    Oh, and no “mouses”. Maybe “mice”.
    Sorry, it’s a de senectute question.

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