Carnegie Deli 1:00 a.m.. That mountain in front of you is the famed open face Reuben. Leslie and I once ordered one and it took two or three sittings to vanquish the beast. Why do it? As Edmond Hillary once said, because it is there.
I am not feeling so good after my adventures at Dave's Cable Car, might have a mild touch of food poisoning. The old constitution is listing heavily and starting to sink. Will run over to Trader Joes soon for nutribiotic and papaya enzymes. I am determined not to let the gastric rebellion interfere with my newfound satori like state. Think I will forego the fancy meal at the Iron Gate tonight and stick with the mylanta.
As most of us codgers tend to do when we get older and want to plumb an everlasting source of conversation, I started reciting a laundry list of current ailments to friend Kerry last night. He suggested brown rice and macrobiotic. I replied something on the order of the afterlife looking pretty good if I am relegated to that sort of ghastly earthly fare. As we have noted many times, no extra points for leaving a good looking corpse.