Four and a half years ago I boarded a plane and headed to New York City where I would meet up with my wife in Times Square. Does this sound a bit too familiar That cheesecake quest in New York City had an accompanying pizza quest that ended just as sadly.
In order to understand why my pizza quest was such a failure, you have to understand some of the dynamics of my marriage at that time.
Casey had become accustomed to traveling doing blog related work. She had her routines and she had the little parts of her trip that she loved. And an empty hotel room all to herself was one of her beloved travel habits. A private hotel room meant peace and quiet and sound sleeping.
When she found out she’d be heading to New York City on a business trip, she asked me to meet her there so we could have a little bit of time together away from Addie. I would stay in her prepaid hotel room and I’d take a flight using one of the many free flight vouches she had saved up.
There was only one problem with her little plan. I arrived in New York, headed up to the hotel room where I untied my shoes, set my bags down, and waited for her. After she had lunch with her other friends who were in the city, she came up to the hotel room, found all of my stuff in the room, and panicked a bit. Okay well. Actually, she saw my shoes in the middle of the walkway and she lost it. That was her hotel room, and if I planned on staying there, I needed to make sure my presence wasn’t felt or I’d have to find somewhere else to stay.
You’re all probably thinking I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. I don’t think she realized before we planned the trip how much she would regret not having the hotel room all to herself. I actually had to call a friend who lived in New York to see if I could stay with him while I was in the city. The only reason I didn’t end up in his apartment was because he was away on a business trip and we didn’t have enough money for me to pay $200 per night at some other hotel. Casey ended up with no choice but to let me stay in her hotel room.
All this means is that our trip didn’t get off to the best start and the rest of the time it was a bit tense. So it turned out to be okay that I had each day and most evenings to myself, so we could have a bit of distance from each other.
As I went about on my pizza quest, I tried all of the top places that were supposed to have the best slices of pizza. None of the pizza I tried was all that impressive, however. So at 9:00 pm on my last night in New York I decided to take the advice of some locals and get a pizza from John’s Pizzeria. I had waited in the hotel for a few hours in case Casey came back from one of her trips with the people she was working with, but she never arrived. I didn’t have a cellphone, so outside meeting up in the hotel room, she had no way of getting a hold of me.
Certain that Casey was having dinner elsewhere, I took off for John’s Pizzeria. I ordered a whole peperoni pizza (John’s doesn’t do slices) and I took it back to the hotel just in case Casey showed up. About two minutes after I got back to the hotel, before I could taste my pizza, Casey barged through the door angrier at me than she had ever been before.
I was apparently supposed to have met her and the people she was working with at some fancy restaurant and I didn’t show up. I still have no idea how I was supposed to know any of that or where the miscommunication occurred, but she was so angry that it didn’t matter what had happened. I was in trouble.
I left my pizza on the table and headed to the restaurant with her. By the time I got to the restaurant all the food was gone and by the time I got back to the hotel my pizza had sat out in the cold for 2 or 3 hours. Throw an angry wife into the equation, and I wasn’t all that hungry to eat a cold dinner, and therefore I didn’t get to taste what many locals consider to be New York’s best pizza.
During this past trip to New York, I decided to make up for that past failure by going to John’s Pizzeria for lunch one day all by myself and boy, am I glad I did. That pizza was pretty amazing and here’s the proof that I loved it:
John’s Pizzeria 1 of 3John's Pizzeria cooks the pizza in one of several wood ovens.
The Classic 2 of 3I only glanced at the menu and once I realized John's offers several varieties of pizza, I just closed it and asked the waiter for a classic New York style pepperoni pizza.
The Leftovers 3 of 3It was just me in the restaurant and John's Pizzeria doesn't sell pizza by the slice, so I did the only decent thing I figured I could do considering the circumstances. I ate the whole thing.
More on Dadding: