Strolling down fifth avenue, as college students, we were
all worried about going into a restaurant and getting a $50 bill…for lunch. My
peers and I gawked as we walked past Bergdorf Goodman’s and Tiffany’s (while
reenacting the window scene. Who doesn’t want to be Audrey, even if for a split
second?). We also gawked when pulling up reviews for restaurants nearby and
seeing the typical rating as three dollar signs: aka, too much for us.
Thriving on finding local restaurants rather than relying on
chipotle, I filtered the dollar signs to two. Luckily, a few places nearby
popped up: a chipotle (shocker), a deli, and a burger joint. The burger joint,
wittily named burger joint, was rated best burgers in NYC. Just like standing in
front of Tiffany’s-who could resist?
We were directed to Le Parker Meridien Hotel and stood perplexed.
This is where a cheap burger joint was? Regardless, we tiptoed inside; the
concierge noticed our confusion and asked where he could direct us. Hesitantly,
I said “a burger joint?” and he smiles, telling us to turn down the small
hallway. Obliging, we looked up to see a small neon sign of a burger with an
arrow underneath. Mama, we made it.
burger joint: A hole in the wall covered in stickers, yet
concealed by a high-end hotel. The line was long and the seating basically
non-existent, but we snagged a small booth from some funny gentlemen. I sat
down as another peer ordered my food for me; a woman came and sat down, but I
quickly told her that we had a group of five. She told me “I’ll only be five
minutes. I just want to down my burger” and the Minnesota nice in me showed,
letting her stay as we started to cram into one side of the booth.
Talking to her, she had moved to New York 15 years earlier,
working for Dow Jones, but now was a stay at home mom. Her schedule had opened
up today, so she was heading to get a pedicure when she craved burger joint.
She was a regular. Being a regular, she told me to get my burger medium-rare
for the best taste. She also complained that they gave her free food all the
time that she did not have an appetite; offering, she passed over fries and a
shake to me as she told me about her experience in New York. And her advice
made my burger beyond tasty.
Even with the small gesture of food and friendly conversation,
this woman made me feel more at home in a city that can swallow you whole.
Maybe Minnesota Nice transcends borders in different ways. New York Nice
exists, too, even in a cramped burger joint.
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