Eat, Pray, Love, Eat Again

It's been an amazing run of late for sirbacon123.com.

I've enjoyed telling the stories of my new life and I've really enjoyed hearing from so many of you that my stories are still interesting.

And I thank you for that.

The response has blown me away.

Exhibit A -- in the last week, my blog has been visited from Greece, Ireland, England, Spain, France, Mexico, Finland, Malaysia, Philippines, India, Bhutan, Japan, Australia and New Zealand.  

Plus readers from 34 of our united states (35 if you count D.C.) and of course, there is still that love affair with Canada.

If it sounds like I'm bragging, that’s because I am.

In a good way.

Not bragging at all in the ego/cocky/look-at-me sense, but rather, I’m just celebrating the fact that you are still there.

Honestly, I'm not sure how you found me, but I'm thrilled you did.

You have inspired me more than words could ever express.

It still brings chills down my spine when I see a new reader, from a new city, reading my stories.

I was surfing the internet at 1:49am a few days ago when I noticed that somebody I’ve never met from Sayville, New York was reading 23 of my previous entries.

That will always bring a smile to my face.

I guess its fitting that the new reader is from New York, because New York has brought a lot of joy to my life in the last month.

The other day I was taking a little saunter through Manhattan when I accidentally landed at one of the great landmarks of the 90s.

The Soup Nazi.

Actually I think the place is called The Soup Man, but he will always be The Soup Nazi.

Unfortunately it was closed, so there was NO SOUP FOR ME.

Ok, that was too easy, sorry.

I was actually there a few years ago.   The soup was excellent, a bit overpriced, but the rent at 55th Street and 8th Avenue can’t be cheap.

I remember waiting in line, in the rain, with a friend of mine and at least 25 others.

We got to the counter, made our order, took a step to the side, paid our money, got our soup and left.

I don’t remember if he gave me bread, but if he didn't, I wasn’t going to ask.

This time around there was no soup, so I just kept walking.

I headed south towards Times Square.

Around 49th street, I noticed a piece of green paper on the sidewalk.

Taking a closer look, it was no ordinary piece of green paper, it was a $20 bill.

I quickly grabbed it and went on my way.

I was on the phone at the time with a close friend so I couldn’t help but share the exciting news.

And just at that moment, I just happened to be walking past one of the few remaining strip clubs in Times Square.

My friend tried to convince me it was a sign from above that I should walk into that club and spend my newfound fortune.

But I passed.

Instead, I used it on something that really turns me on.

Barbecued ribs.

I found this BBQ restaurant by taking one of my many walking trips through Manhattan.

Across the street was an Indian Vegetarian Restaurant.  

Not an Indian Restaurant.

Not a Vegetarian Restaurant.

But an Indian Vegetarian Restaurant.

This city has everything.

At the BBQ place, it just so happened to be all-you-can-eat ribs for $27.95.

Or using my math, $7.95.

Cha-ching.

So I got my table for one and went to town.

They had three types of ribs -- Northern, Southern and Something Else -- because in New York, one is not good enough.

When I ordered the special, my server asked what kind of beer I wanted, Bud or Bud Light.

Water please, I’m watching my weight.

It was then she informed me the special was not only all-you-can-eat, but it was also all-you-can-drink too.

All for $27.95, I mean $7.95.

So she brought me a LARGE pitcher of Bud Light to keep me happy.   And keep me quiet.

I asked which of the three ribs I should get and she said why don't I just bring you all three.

Who said New Yorkers are not nice?

I informed her that I had just moved here and she said that some of her friends were coming by if I wanted to hang with them.

Is this a BBQ restaurant or did I just fall into Barbara Eden's bottle?

The ribs were amazing, the beer was cold and this is a really bad sign.

I'm just hoping the pitcher of beer erased my memory of where that restaurant is located because this could become a really bad habit.

Did I mention the sweet potato fries or candied yams?

Ouch.

Now if I can just figure out where that $20 came from.