You tell me you have two job offers, one in some population twenty thousand Illinois town, the other in Man-hat-tan. I think about how every time I see 'widely recognized' in print, I imagine three or four white haired men nodding in unison, shaking hands, grinning, wearing tuxedoes. They look like Statler and Waldorf.
You snap me out of it, tell me you're serious. I tell you that in some small town you can't stop by a tented Oktoberfest block party run by a local bar selling bratwurst and pork with kraut en route to a gourmet, wood-fired oven flat bread pizza shop.
You tell me you're leaning toward NYC anyway and there's lots of stuff like that there, more than we have in Philly. I tell you that in NYC you'll have to wait an hour to sit down at the wood-fired oven flat bread pizza shop whereas in Philly we can sit at the bar pretty darn soon after we show up, and how the Yankee Stadium crowd remains lifeless most of the time because the fans just expect their team to always win.
You tell me you'll think about it. I call verses versus verses and lead off:
Get busy livin' or get busy dyin'
Get busy quittin' or get busy tryin'
The city speaks truth, the city don't lie
It's Philly: a coop you don't fly.
You just stare at me like I'm crazy. Then you surprise me with:
There's more to life than just cheesesteaks
Tony the Tiger loves Frosted Flakes
But even though he says they're grrrrreat
Cocoa Puffs also satiate.
Now I look at you like you're the crazy one until we're both laughing. I tell you your rhyme made me hungry and we go for appetizers and soup at Vietnam Restaurant.