Chapter 25 - Drugstore Sandwiches

According to Boy: Evie and I still like to visit New York City often. I have on my laptop a folder entitled: "NYC Favorites." In that folder is a list of numerous and varied haunts, many from times past, to which we like to return when we visit the city.

I think I would be happy always returning to what is familiar, such as a favorite Irish Pub we found some time ago, or our beloved spot for breakfast, or our special bench in Washington Square Park. I don’t mind taking chances; but I do not like to be disappointed. I find that if we always return to our most frequented haunts, the likelihood of an unpleasant surprise is greatly diminished.

Evie, on the other hand, would never make a list of her favorite places. She prefers adventure. Whenever we go into a restaurant, she always orders something different. Not me! When I find an entree that I really like at a given restaurant, that’s is what I will most likely always order. Our waiter knows before I sit down what he’s going to bring me. Perhaps I am too predictable; but I am seldom disappointed with choices.

All that having been said, if Evie were to have a list of favorites, first on that list would be the little drugstore just a block or two east of the old Fifth Avenue Hotel. That place, rather the memory of that place (it no longer exists), owns a little real estate in our hearts.

I would bet that Evie and I ate there twenty-five times (That might not seem like a large number of times, but when you consider that we were very poor student types, that number looms large.). There was nothing special about the drugstore itself. It was, after all, just a drugstore. The eating area offered no tables, just a counter with padded stools.

What caused us to love it was the fact that they made the most wonderful sandwiches, and served them with huge hunks of dill pickle, or extra olives. We also liked the waiters. I think they were related. There were two of them, one or both of whom were always there. We had developed our special sandwiches, and they knew when we walked in just exactly what we were going to order.

We would walk in and sit down. Just as our rear ends hit our stools, one of them would yell: "Hi guys. You want your regular?"

And, of course we did. I am not sure if they served it with Coke or Pepsi, but we would buy one of these special sandwiches, made to our specifications, with a glass of soda. On the side of each of the serving plates would be half of a deli dill pickle. As soon as the waiter delivered them to us, I would fork Evie’s dill over to my plate.
My guess is that everything served was kosher. Perhaps not to Hassidic standards, but I think that most of the Jewish residents of the area who also frequented this drugstore found it acceptable.

One of my favorite memories of this drugstore occurred when we walked in and saw a new face behind the counter. He wasn’t there by himself, however, one of our two buddies was also back there with him. As we sat down, the new guy walked over and asked us what we wanted. "The regular," I told him.

"And what would that be?" he asked.

I knew right then that this was going to be a challenge. He had no idea whatsoever what we always ordered. So, I set about educating him. As I already said, I really cannot recall what exactly it was that we liked to order there, but I do know it was not on the menu.

After hearing my order, the new waiter wiped his hands disgustedly on a towel, and slammed it in a large stainless steel pan reserved for dirty

towels. Placing both hands palms down on the counter right in front of us, he snarled: "Do I look like I just got off the banana boat? We don’t make any sandwiches that even sound like that. You must be talking about a different place."

He then grabbed a couple menus and slammed them down in front of us.

Evie and I just smiled, as the other waiter, one of our buddies, walked over and snatched up the menus. "He’s new here. He’ll learn."

The "banana boat" waiter took a step back, and rolled his eyes as only New Yorkers can do, and walked away shaking his head.

Evie and I have since tried to find that little drugstore. One afternoon we spent two hours walking up and down the street where we remembered it to be. I think it was Eighth Street or Ninth Street, east of Fifth Avenue. We narrowed it down to just a couple spots where it could have been. But now those locations are filled with different businesses.

Our drugstore no longer exists, or has re-located. Sadly, Evie and I will now have to rely on our memories of our experiences there, and of those delicious sandwiches.