Spilling out front to back with New Yorkers of all types; Yankees sweats to Christian Dior pinstripes. This place is heaven on earth. This place is Katz Delicatessen.
While I can be charged 23 years in prison for having lived my whole life 7 blocks away from the pastrami king, I have finally been set free of my crime this past Saturday. The record has been set straight! I've been Katzed!
The place was swamped. And if you didn't have a single clue about the ticket system, then you were in the twilight zone. There was a line for everything, and if you didn't stand in the right place, then NO SANDWICH FOR YOU!
As we braved the lines, the boyfriend and I became more flustered by the minute. We decided to make a run for it, leaving our tickets at the counter, and scattered to the exit in bitterness and blunder. And then we got seized by the ticket police. "Everyone must have a ticket to leave." he retorts. So, back to the counter, the boyfriend snatches the tickets we left on the counter from a Katz employee's hand. The man responds... "Calm down. It's alright! What do you want? A sandwich? Let's get this man a sandwich!" And problem solved... We got our pastrami sandwich. The famous sandwich with its famous side of pickles and a Dr. Brown. We were happy. We were indeed so happy that there is no photo of this pastrami sandwich due to the speediness of consumption.
My apologies. The tender sandwich never let go of my hands. Too bad I thought half a sandwich was going to suffice. Who was I fooling? Katz! I'm never walking by you and not dropping by to say hi. No indeed. And I will happily wait on your ticket system lines next time around. No complaints.
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