50 down. 51 to go.
The Rapturists were wrong but they weren’t off by much. I looked out of my window at work to see the sky transform into a dark, morbid shade of grey and buckets of rain fall from above. The world was definitely about end, but I wasn’t about to let a little apocalypse interfere with my big plans.
My brother Rusty and I were about to celebrate my big 5-0, my 50th sandwich. At the last second, we got a call from Dean-o-mac and he wanted in. So these three little piggies wandered through the East Village to have roast beef. It was sure to be an awesome night.
This Little Piggy Had Roast Beef, same owners as Artichoke Pizza, is standing room only with a small counter just big enough to rest our gigantic sandwiches and $3 cans of PBR. With each beer comes a deliciously unnecessary roast beef slider, doused in cheese whiz and on only the best Martin’s potato rolls. By round 2, we had to shamefully pass on the sliders or pawn them off on waiting patrons or homeless people.
Before long the real sandwiches were out. They’re not the prettiest looking things, but man were they tasty. That Way, as it’s cleverly named, contains slices of moist roast beef drenched in a sweet gravy and fresh melted mozzarella on a white hero. If the restaurant was smart, they’d sell bottles of that gravy. Why am I always trying to give these places advice when they seem to be doing fine without my input? Regardless, it was the perfect last meal.
With the rain still coming down strong, we ran to the closest bar. Unfortunately, it happened to be Coyote Ugly. It’s not quite what I remembered from the movie. Instead of really attractive girls feeding us shots of alcohol, we witnessed a midget in a bra dancing on the bar and a drunk bartender face-plant off the corner. And neither one helped eliminate the strong smell of urine. We finished our beers as quickly as possible and left.
It was now time for the main event. Rusty and I hopped on the L train to Williamsburg to see my first hip-hop show, DJ Quik at the Knitting Factory. You may remember him from…well, nothing really. But he’s still the man. Unfortunately, when we got there we discovered the 9pm start time on the tickets really meant 12am. Come on! We decided to hang by the bar and wait it out. The clock struck midnight, the world didn’t end and DJ Quik took the stage putting on an awesome show. What a great end of the world party!
Oh, and can you see that? I see the half way point of The Quest just around the corner.
This Little Piggy Had Roast Beef | 149 1st Avenue between 9th & 10th Street