Sometimes, after long stretches of eating Chinese, Vietnamese, and Thai, and too many hours spent wishing for the street food of Taiwan, I forget that I also like white people food. Like potato latkes. I cannot emphasize enough my love for latkes. They were, as some of you may recall, the sole reason that I crashed the town Hanukkah party with Creegan in our senior year of high school (she told them that we were thinking of converting. she didn't tell me that ahead of time). Sometimes, more than a British barmaid grandmother, I wish I had one that kept kosher.
Last night, Lauren and I had a completely whitey touristy night, but it was great nonetheless. And partly redeemed by the fact that I gave some girls directions and absentmindedly said Nawnth Station instead of North (not that I'm going to start going around in a Boston accent any time soon. Pretentious people don't speak with Boston accents). Lauren and I met up for dinner at Giacomo's, where a line actually formed outside the restaurant even before it opened. Some slightly late souls who only arrived 10 minutes before opening had to stand outside and watch us eat our entire dinner before getting a turn themselves. Afterwards, we did the requisite cannoli visit to Mike's Pastry and walked through Faneuil Hall. I want to say that I was embarrassed by going to all these tourist traps but you know what, the sight of balloon animals just makes me giddy. As I was eating my cannoli on a sidewalk bench, a group walked by...
Man 1: I could really go for a cannoli right now.
Man 2: Yeah, a chocolate covered one.
Man 1: With chocolate chips.
Woman: Like the one she's eating now?
(Everyone turns to stare at me as I take a messy bite of mine. I try to smile, but I've got a mouth full of cream and chocolate. Some more stares. A long pause.)
Man 2: Yeah, just like that.
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