My summer school classroom is not air conditioned, I know... boo hoo. Well it's still hot. It was so muggy this past Monday, I was sweating just standing in the play yard. Sweat was dripping down my arms. And I was just STANDING there.
But... fortunately New York has an abundance of people walking or driving around looking to sell you something to eat or drink.
Of course everyone knows the Good Humor man, or some other mobile food vendors, but something about the ones in New York make them special.
For example, today, I was so hot, but what do I see in the distance? A Spanish lady pushing an Italian Icey cart. Ohhhh mama. For $1 you get a decent sized cup of pure heaven. Cherry is my flavor. It was so sweet, so cold. I could have had 4 more.
Then there's Mister Softee . I've tried to explain to people in Maine about Mister Softee, but just saying, "It's a Dairy Queen in a truck," just doesn't do it justice. Not to mention, Mister Softee has more to do with my childhood than anything else I guess. When I'm home I hear the jingle... that unforgettable jungle... I think of M*A*S*H where Radar heard the choppers in the distance before anyone else. You hear the jingle, but you don't know where it's coming from. Will he come down your street tonight? YOU JUST DON'T KNOW! (Of course he does, he does every day.)
The thing about these little culinary pleasures is they are like gifts from the gods. You see the Icey lady, you HAVE to get one... you can not refuse. The gods would be insulted. You don't know when you'll see her next, your paths may never cross again. And Mister Softee, who knows if you'll be home the next time he drives up your street?
OK, I get it... it's a pathetic attempt to justify having sweets/treats in the middle of the day.
But it's summer. And the god's might not grace you with a visit from Mister Softee until next year.
Yeah, Mister Softee may look a bit freaky, but man does his noggin taste good. (Click on the link to hear a snippet of his jingle.)
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