When I was a kid, my Dad used to take me into the city just to walk around. It was better then, still full of people, but full of good people. Nowadays, don't get me started. Anyway, we would usually eat at a deli - not the same one every time, but someplace like the Carnegie Deli up on 7th Avenue. He would get pastrami, and I would get salami, and before we had our sandwiches, they would bring a big plate of pickles. These days, it costs you 4 dollars to get a plate of pickles, and they bring those newfangled ones that are practically just cucumbers, like they forgot to make the pickles and only had 20 minutes to brine them or something. Which is just typical for what New York has become, if you ask me. And one day, we're in there for lunch, and guess who walks through the door? Abraham fucking Beame, that's who. And guess what he orders. Egg salad! I shit you not. Anyway, this book is about New York, so it reminded me of all that shit.