You walk into the bustlin’ “Good Eats” deli on third and get in line. Salvatori “Sal” Tomasi’s behind the counter, takin’ orders and makin’ sandwiches like he’s built for it, which, to be fair, he probably is. He sees you in the back’a the line and grins.

“‘Ey, kid! The hell you doin’ back over there!? Get on up ‘ere!-“ He’s met with a boo and protests from the other customers. They must not know how things work ‘round here, fuckin’ tourists. He turns to ‘em.

“‘Ey, shut the fuck up! You got a problem with how I’m runnin’ my business you take it up wit’ the fuckin’ mayor’s wife!”