So, after a night of drinking that ended an hour early (thanks, stupid Daylight Savings) last night, I was jonesing for some pizza. As an only occasional visitor to the Upper East Side, a resident pointed us towards a place on 3rd Avenue, somewhere around 83rd or 84th. As we walked in, we noticed some very large framed photos on the wall of a great man who had been known to enjoy a slice of sausage pizza now and then.
Sorry the pic sucks, but it was taken with a camera phone.
Yes, I ate at John Travolta's favorite NYC pizza joint. So the guys running the place told me, and so I believe. I must have asked the manager a zillion questions about John, and he told me to leave my number so he could call me if John ever came back. Ha. I'm no dummy.
Of course, in my now-sober state, I'm realizing that he was a fairly attractive Italian guy with possible ties to John Travolta, and I have been dateless for what seems like the last 100 years, so I probably should've slipped him the digits.
Sorry the pic sucks, but it was taken with a camera phone.
Yes, I ate at John Travolta's favorite NYC pizza joint. So the guys running the place told me, and so I believe. I must have asked the manager a zillion questions about John, and he told me to leave my number so he could call me if John ever came back. Ha. I'm no dummy.
Of course, in my now-sober state, I'm realizing that he was a fairly attractive Italian guy with possible ties to John Travolta, and I have been dateless for what seems like the last 100 years, so I probably should've slipped him the digits.
Comments
There's no reason you can't go back there!
: )
That's my imitation of JT from Grease.
You're a pro girl, don't let anybody tell you otherwise!
Mamma didn't raise no fool.