As is probably known to the more regular readers of this blog, I'm attached to rituals. On Saturday afternoon I like to visit my cobbler on Lexington Avenue. After that I have lunch at Sfoglia. (See here.)
The cobbler, an elderly, charming Italian, usually asks: “Where are the girls?” A few times I came in his shop with a woman, and since that time he likes to see me in the company of women.
Usually I answer: “Next time I’ll bring a girl.” (See here.)
Yesterday he said: “Don’t come with a man. I have a gun, I’ll shoot you.”