Timestamp 4 A.M. Head to the deli to get a bagel. And a Yoohoo. Dude it’s been forever and a day since I had a Yoohoo. Sometimes, though, you just need to have a Yoohoo. Sometimes.

Anyway.

The deli is filled with post-party people. God knows I’ve been there. Bar closes, you’re a bit drunk and you’re hungry. A sandwich suddenly seems like the single best invention in the history of the world. Fuck the wheel. Meat between bread takes home the gold.

The radio is playing some song or another, I don’t recognize it right off. This guy, maybe 25, with his girlfriend, walk in and contemplate food. The guy asks me what the song is. I don’t know. He asks me again. I still don’t know. He decides it is “something from the 90s, or one of those decades,” and I agree. It is indeed a song from a decade.

Meanwhile his girlfriend is discussing what to get with the guy behind the counter:

“I should have something healthy. Give me suggestions?”

“Uhm. Turkey?”

“Ew, no. Ok, to hell with healthy. I need roast beef. On rye. Do you have rye?”

“Yeah… lettuce? Tomato? Mayo?”

“Ew, vomit. No. None of that gross unhealthy stuff. Just the roast beef. On rye. Rye is healthy.”

“Right.”

She then decided that she needed orange juice. I left with my bagel. Never did find out what song was playing.