TRAGEDY!

The most awful of awful things, ever, hath occured. It would seem that the only White Castle in Manhattan has CLOSED. Now this may not be a surprise to some, as the chain has been phasing out of this borough since I moved here in Fall 1999. This downsizing was a matter of great sorrow to me, as my New York Big Screen Fantasy was fueled greatly by Gene Siskel's infamously favorite film, Saturday Night Fever, and the scene of John Travoltra and friends there seemed like such an integral aspect of the whole Noo Yawk package (Ew. Did I really just try to get away with typing out something phonetically, as if that's fey or droll? Someone pour hot coffee on my crotch).

Now, as anyone who knows me can attest, I have an iron stomach and have always had an affinity for junk food. ESPECIALLY bite-sized portioned junk food. This may be somewhat genetic as my parents fed me many, many Krystal Burgers when I was a kid and we lived in Pensacola, FL. So I'm basically trying to assert, with absolutely no scientific evidence, that miniature burgers are in my blood. Which is really, really gaylord. In the queer way, too. But bear with me, I didn't get a lot of sleep and I am not used to this new schedule I'm on...what was I typing? OMG!! That light shining off the window is so super duper pretty! I love Springtime in New York.

Oh wait- yes, White Castle T R A G E D Y!!! So, this very fine day I woke up with a craving that could not be sated without at least one White Castle cheesburger. And NOT I repeat NOT the frozen ones from your grocer's freezer. No I wanted the real godammned deal. That's right I spell it out, because "GD" is an abbreviation for wuss-assed Catholics and other such whinging babies. Why am I so angry?!? Well if you'd LISTEN for chrissakes you'd KNOW!! Because you damned mongoloid, I walked my ass all the way over to the former location of the only White Castle I know that ever was in Manhattan. Now keep in mind, I HATE, nay, LOATHE crowds. I spent my first two years in New York having to go to my grad school classes in crowded rooms above the theaters of Times Square. This was also at the height of the TRL stand-in-the-street-with-posterboard-signs crowd craze, so as I'd be getting a lecture on the merits of union negotiations regarding disgruntled orchestra musicians, there'd suddenly arise a godawful wailing from many stories below, and all because Aaron Carter was going to "rap" about his "party". Ick. It only took me about two weeks as a transplant to New York to learn to hate Times Square and, along with it, Herald Square, with every fibre of my being.

So for me to hike it over to the 30s, across from the Empire State Building, dodging neck-craning idiots and whirling postcard racks and various other indignities, at noon on a gorgeous spring day, was only a testimony to how much I wanted a frikkin' White. Castle. Chesseburger.

And the White Castle I had previously been to, that I depended on to "get me done" as they say, was...gone.

No sign of it. Poof. Just gone. There's a slew of other fast food chains on that same block, but none can compare to the magic of a minscule, grease-riddled steam burger with a teensy weensy chunk of American cheese half melted on it.

I did not want to accept what I knew was the truth. I even called 411 just to make sure. The final blow was delivered by a friendly man with a slight Southern twang who informed me that there were listings for White Castle in Staten Island, in Brooklyn and in Queens. "But I'm afraid I don't see any listings for a White Castle in Manhattan. I'm sorry, ma'am. Can I help you with anythig else? Ma'am? Are you...crying?"

Damn you, White Castle. You fickle, tawdry, alluring bitch. DAMN YOU.

I got a .99 cent hot dog with sauerkraut instead. It was sorta OK.