David's Brisket House Review: Hating on NYC and liking sandwiches

David's Brisket House Review: Hating on NYC and liking sandwiches

After six weeks of apartment search my body feels pretty battered. This is a combination of eating like a fat kid, and also not going to the gym. The result is simply not pretty. My tits have begun to sag. Jesus Christ. Thirty just doesn’t treat me as well as my twenties. Fucking A. I’ve begun to hate New York City just a tiny bit. Living here is as natural as eating chicken feet, and yet I can’t stop wondering about the possibilities of that shiny idea that many Americans love… Suburbs. The shit that I grew up to despise and shaped me to be this angry, suddenly has the appeal of brisket sandwiches. There’s just something about not having to struggle with housing that has tremendous appeal. As much as I love New York and its convenience, there are things that simply suck about this city. Let’s take the idea of, “Going out for a sandwich.”

The sandwich place in question is a pastrami sandwich at David’s Brisket House. It was about thirteen miles away from our previous apartment. If you live in the suburbs and you had to drive 13 miles to go get lunch, it’ll be super easy. In New York City, the 13 mile subway ride took about an hour and ten minutes on a Saturday to get to Bed Stuy. As a child, there was no way in hell my parents could drag me to go eat at some random restaurant an hour away. Now as an adult, I’m sipping that hypocrite juice and traveling all that way just for some damn pastrami. It was some affordable pastrami though…

Here’s the thing, if you gotta travel an hour to get a pastrami sandwich that’s a few dollars cheaper than the version in Manhattan, then you really gotta do the time-value proposition. I finally realize that time is money too. Because we all have less of time today than we did five years ago. Death will catch up at one point. Time is that shit you can’t get back. At a different point in my life, I would have been gaga over a good-enough pastrami sandwich (and really, that’s what it was at David’s Brisket House), but now…? Now I need that pastrami sandwich to blow me if it takes twice as long to get to versus Katz.

This rule works the same for you if David’s Brisket House is closer to you than Katz. I would still say Katz is better, but if you live closer to David’s Brisket House and it’s cheaper… why the hell would you want to commute longer to go into the city for something that’s an equal replacement. Normally I would tell you exactly how much this sandwich cost but the problem is that after four failed apartment applications (in which two of the apps involved brokers who didn’t really know the price of the apartments…) I really don’t have any memory of prices of a sandwich from three weeks ago.

I want to love New York City, but sometimes there’s stupid shit about this city that just makes this place cringe-worthy. The result of the apartment search was that we saw an apartment on a Tuesday, and ended up moving into a new one just four days later on a Friday. The best part is that we hired a man with a van. He actually brought his elementary-school-aged kid with him, who sat and watched his van. Later after the move, the kid needed to pee so he used our bathroom. Guess what? The kid decided that aiming was optional. So there you have it… not only does NYC take 6 weeks to fuck me in the ass, after it’s done, it sprays pee on the floor. Yea that’s right. Fuck you New York, and your 13 mile trek that takes over an hour.

David’s Brisket House533 Nostrand Ave.Brooklyn, NY 11226718-789-1155

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