It's been awhile.
I've hidden within various jobs in different geographical locations.
I spent a month on an island in the Caribbean.
I worked my ass off at a hotel down on Nantucket two summers ago.
I bummed around L.A., still am.
I’ve been a Gypsy Cook. Some now know me as Zorro.
Still, late at night, alone with my thoughts and a glass of Jameson's in my hand, I think.
I've thought about cold winter mornings, about 10 minutes to 3:00 and a line up the stairs from my restaurant onto a snow encrusted sidewalk.
I've thought about Goths, BU Students, Ravers, Rockers, Clubbers, Musician-types, Prostitutes and Cops, all hanging in the same place at the same time.
I've thought about beat-up booths, jukeboxes and seats swathed with duct tape.
(I remember the time a BU Mom complained about the run down condition of the Haus. She turned to walk away from me in a huff exposing a patch of duct tape stuck to her ass)
I've thought about Velvet Elvises. (The sandwich and the art form)
I've thought about the Deli Haus T-Shirt Contest and all those people photographing themselves in Deli Haus t-shirts in far flung locations around the world. (Beyond any of my highest expectations I received photos of Haus patrons in front of the Pyramids of Egypt, The Taj Majal and The Great Wall of China.)
I've thought about all the different types of people who worked at the Haus.
I tried to hire nice people. I never really looked at the outer trappings and so, ended up as a safe haven for nice, intelligent employees with a different look and a different look on life.
I've thought if that if I had done something different; somehow, we would all be in the same place still
Then I’ve thought about the eventual turn of the wheel and then I wonder what awaits in front of me.
It’s been awhile and I still think of you guys.
Thanks for the memories,
(Sometimes when I’m walking down a street in Boston I still hear off in the distance: “Look it’s Deli-haus Guy!”)