Ways to tell if you’re a New Yorker
Number 15: You’ve eaten at a certain pizza place more than you’ve eaten anywhere else in your life.
For me that pizza place is Roma Pizza, on 7th Ave between Berkeley and Union in Park Slope. And they don’t even give me an ounce of respect there. When I come in they throw me the cold shoulder. Maybe once in a blue moon, they might recognize what my usual order is. I don’t know any of the pizza-man’s names these days. They don’t know mine. A guy named Oscar who worked at Roma a while back, and knew my brother and I as Goldberg, opened his own joint a couple blocks down. But we kept going to going Roma. Loyalty to the institution.
