This past August (I think it was August) I went to Kat'z Deli for the first time. For those of you who don't know, Katz's is one of the four delis you'll probably make it to as a tourist (Carnegie, 2nd Avenue, and Ben's are the other three). Besides being delicious, Katz's is where Meg Ryan had one of the best orgasms caught on film ever. (Get your mind out of the gutter if you don't know what I'm referring to and go to the link.) Anyways, I'd been to Carnegie Deli on a family trip to NYC in 2001. We went to Ben's over Christmas in 2006. I made it to 2nd Avenue Deli, which is no longer on 2nd Ave, with a friend when she was sick. Katz's was my last of the delis to go to.
So, back to my story. FD3 and I decided to go one afternoon for lunch. Katz's is one of his favorites, and I'm always up for new things, so it seemed like a good idea. Of course, it being a beautiful Sunday afternoon (maybe Saturday, I don't remember) the place was packed. No surprise there. However, I was surprised to be handed a ticket by a security guard as I walked in. Unlike at Carnegie and 2nd Ave where a waiter comes to your table, most people at Katz's go stand in line at the counter to order. You give the person behind the counter your ticket and they mark off what you ordered so that when you leave the person at the register knows what to charge you for. If you don't get anything, you hand them your blank ticket. I'm not sure who invented this system and I see how it makes sense, but it still doesn't all at the same time. Moving on . . .
Not wanting to lose a chance at a table, I immediately found an empty table for two right beside the counter. I told FD3 what I wanted, a roast beef sandwich on wheat (I know, I know - I've since learned that I like pastrami, but I still don't like rye), and he got in line. The table I grabbed was the closest to the door and right next to the sandwich line which meant there were 50 butts in my face when I looked to at the line. I'm not even kind of kidding. They were right there. After I'd been sitting for a few minutes, the table just to the left opened up and I hopped over there. Somewhere in the span of that 30 seconds, I lost my ticket. I checked the table. I checked the other table. I checked the floor. I checked my pocket. I checked my purse. I checked my other pocket. It was gone. At some point FD3 came back with our food and I told him what happened. Mind you we'd been dating for maybe a few weeks at this point. Maybe. We weren't even at the point where you're dating someone, but rather you've been on a few dates. What he must have been thinking of the crazy girl who lost her ticket I will never know, but I can't imagine it was all that good. (And he didn't even know about my bad math skills at that point either.)
Neither of us knew what happened when you lost a ticket so we continued on with our lunch until one of us noticed a sign: Please return all tickets (used or unused) when leaving. The tickets are your check and exit pass. Any lost ticket will incur a $50 lost ticket charge (minimum). Do not lose or discard tickets. Thank you, Mgmt.
My jaw dropped. They had to be kidding. I searched under the table, under all the plates, under the old table, under the napkin dispenser. No ticket. Finally, it was about time for us to leave and I still had no idea where the ticket was. Defeated, I went up to one of the security guards and told him I'd lost my ticket. The expression on his face did not allay my fears. He came over to my table to help me look again. I must have looked like I'd lost my puppy because the security guard went to talk to the manager. (What can I say? I can pull out the dramatics when I need to. I'm no Meg Ryan, but I can pout.) The security guard came back and said it would be ok but to see him when we left. We made it out of the restaurant only paying the crazy amount for two sandwiches, two waters, and some macaroni salad. No $50 charge added.
Why FD3 didn't think I was completely crazy and end things then I'll never know. (I like to think it's because I'm charming and alluring, but it's also because he's a good guy too.) I made it back to Katz's this past Friday night. I'd been at a biergarten in the East Village with friends and we decided to head to Katz's for late night sandwiches. You better believe I held onto my ticket tightly. At the end of the night I still had it and paid $20 for a pastrami sandwich (still no rye) and a bottle of water.
I still have no clue what happened to my ticket the first time, but part of me hopes that some day I randomly find it in my jeans pocket.
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