Its 1996. I’m a college freshman straight from Bumblefart, Washington that’s been transplanted to a much different New York City than what we know today. I remember vividly being frustrated trying to find a mop with a sponge head (not a deck mop, who uses those?) at one of the 8 million sheisty looking mom and pop stores, buying rotten soda (it happens) and how neverendingly dirty every thing was. I was homesick. I had an awful roommate that hated me, I wasn’t used to the abruptness of New Yorkers and nothing was convenient. In a word, it sucked. New York City just sucked.
Fortunately for me, I had some relatives in New Jersey and I would go to visit them as often as I possibly could. One time they were nice enough to drive me back up from Laurenceville to my crappy dorm in Brooklyn, where I made an unusual food discovery (accidentally): The Bialy.