We’ve been duped into the next big irony, havent we?
Did I give the impression me and T-Diddle became seafood pushers? Naw, we were just hungry.
One warm Wednesday night, I had a haircut appointment in Greenpoint, mere blocks from the epicenter of Ben’s lobster empire. Tom and I had hung out the night before, but we’d have to risk running out of things to talk about. Text message-
J: Lobster tonight?
We met near the train station at 8:45pm and walked to the “secret location,” a nondescript red wall on a residential side street. Standing nearby were a couple of other shadowy duos, obviously fellow addicts. I sent a text message to Ben, placing an order for three rolls. He replied “Walk around the block.”
(to be cont.)