“I’m just a poor boy, somebody feed me.” -Queen, Probably
Let’s roleplay a little bit.
Magically, you find yourself in Manhattan (of all places in the world, wow!) and it’s restaurant week, but have inexplicably found yourself in the pitfall that is the student debt crisis and you legitimately only have $17.00 cash to stretch, because you work in a non-tipped restaurant and some kind soul took pity upon you, gracing you with dat cash money.
Fun fact: NYU made their own little restaurant week, and lil’ ole me, who doesn’t look a day over undergrad decided to seize the day of 1 dollar deals and eat at every. single. establishment. Seems foolproof, right? WRONG. My plan was flawless, except I lacked in NYU street credibility. Of course, dressing like a trust fund and having korean beauty products to mimic a youthful glow will definitely make people assume you’re a college student, but where? Not NYU. Debating just forging myself an NYU identification card just so restaurants will take me seriously as a poor college student and not just a poor sadboi™.
Of course, I will always keep a stony death-grip on my student ID from the University of Minnesota, because I’m allowed to have nice things. Aren’t I?
If you want the sparknotes version of the following video, featuring the effervescent Millie Gibson, my partner in comida crimes, our day was a bust. But, we discovered that the fullness was inside our hearts the whole time, that a plate of food was only temporary… *this is where you go “AWWW” and wipe a single tear from your cheek*.
I should have worn comfier shoes. In the spirit of true collegiate humanity, we walked legitimately everywhere. Don’t get me wrong, these Coach 1941 boots breathe all sorts of Edward Scissorhands vibes that I am very VERY much here for… but Chelsea boots? Ironically not made for stomping around literal Chelsea. They were certainly made for dancing in your boyfriend’s ice sculpture snowstorm a la Winona Ryder though.
But confound it all, this youthful glow only got us free samples from Sephora and a filled frequent flier card to Spot Dessert bar on Saint Marks Place.
Ending this transmission as I eat popcorn in bed, like the true sexual miscreant that I am.