The guy behind in line me is a somewhat unusual suspect at a vegetarian falafel joint: 50, buzzcut, nice-dad demeanour. He tells the cashier “I’m on a budget: $4.25”.
Turns out $4.25 doesn’t get you much falafel in NYC.
Immediately, even less likely suspect in a thick Jersey accent: “Have whatever you want man it’s all on me. We’re American. What are we here for? You gotta stick together. Sometimes bad things happen to good people.” Once were platitudes.
Ensuing conversation reveals the Jersey fellow is Joe, and claims to go back there each week to remind himself where he’s from... in case the baseball jersey, cap, and accent failed? His phone case has a Republican sticker.
1 week after September 11 he left his engineering firm and served in the forces for 3 years. He now owns two Peruvian restaurants in Brooklyn. Takings are down 30% this year.
The older man lost his money over-investing in his own invention: a reclining chair with a built in waterfall for deep relaxation (where does the waterfall go?). It’s not clear whether the recession made this product unviable, or it was just unviable. Not clear to him at least.
“They’re not bums,” Joe tells me after the older man leaves. “Just ordinaries like us. A few months ago you could’ve walked into their houses like, damn you’re living it up.” In America, there’s a special kind of empathy for the poor if once they were rich.
Peruvian for dinner tomorrow.