Mill, Mill. No cheese for you.

Onto a happy post. We got to Canal Street. Lemme say that in my head I had a whole vision of what I thought Canal Street was like. I pictured secret tunnels to fake Chanel bags, secret handshakes to get the best purses, and a nice, quiet street lined with shops and everything is orderly.

Not at all what it was really like. Not even close.

When walking up the stairs to the street level from the subway, it started almost instantly. I felt like I was in a third world country. I think I had tourist stamped on my forehead (right above my terror-filled brown eyes), because they swarmed me!

Coach? Gucci? Prada? Chanel? Louis? Alvin? Simon? Theodore?

Okay, so those last 3 are Chipmunks.

But seriously, like they were right up in my face with their little laminated sheets of purses they had. Some required us to go to a van, and I have seen way too many episodes of CSI, SVU, and other crime shows to be stupid and do that. So, we walked into a shop. I kind of looked around, not too impressed with the ugly purses that were displayed on their walls. And then, it happened…

The chick OPENED THE WALL. Like she went all Chronicles of Narnia on us and opened up the magic wardrobe to reveal knock off jewelry, purses, and sunglasses. <insert angels singing>

It required no secret handshakes, no secret password…nada. She saw a group of girls and opened the wall. We went down some stairs, through a shady looking room with a cardboard floor, and up another flight of stairs, to a closet with all the goods.

Narnia. Word.

The closet, as I shall call it, had lots of stuff. I was on the prowl for a gorgeous fake bag. Not Coach, but like Chanel or something. I didn’t find anything nearly like what I pictured, so I settled for a Tiffany & Co. key necklace knock off and a Coach necklace knock-off. $20 for 2 necklaces that retail would have cost a heck of a lot ($2K for a real Tiffany necklace and $168+ for a Coach). I was happy. We then went back through the secret tunnel and left. I just want to point out that probably all sorts of OSHA laws (in addition to copyright laws) were being broken. But I had my necklaces, so who cares?

Then it continues…people in my face again! Why me? WHY ME??? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

Prada? Louis? Coach? You want Coach? Mill Mill?

Wait, what?

Mill, Mill.

So, now I turn to you, my lovely peeps, and ask who the hell is Mill Mill? Because I don’t know who that is. And if it’s some up and coming it designer, and I missed out on my chance for a faux Mill Mill bag, I will need a stiff drink. I hate to let opportunities pass me by. Enlighten me. BSUMA.

There were guys selling faux bags from their luggage on the sidewalk. From vans. From stores. FROM EVERYWHERE.

Not at all like I pictured. I really thought it reminded me a lot of when I went to Mexico in my childhood, and children were begging by the bridge for nickels or for you to buy gum from them. I don’t mean to insult anyone who works on Canal Street, but seriously, talk about high pressure sales. A used car salesman is friendlier than those folks.

So, then we headed to the Times Square area to grab a bite to eat before seeing Wicked at the Gershwin theater. We didn’t have much time, so we opted for some pizza from a local shop.

Ever watch the Soup Nazi episode of Seinfeld? If you haven’t, you must go watch it, like now. Do not read the rest of this post. Or, if you don’t want to watch the entire 22 minute episode, at least watch this. Please? Thanks.

This is exactly what it was like. We walk into a pizza shop in Times Square (Ray’s Pizza), and they are instantly rude. Jackie asks for cheese, they say they have none, and move onto the next person. Instead of “No soup for you! NEXT!” it was “No cheese for you! NEXT!”

What. The. Hell. She’s PREGNANT you buffoon!! If you don’t have plain cheese, surely she would like something else to eat. YOU BUFFOON! Even I ordered my slice (hawaiian, my absolute fave pizza EVER!) and even then he rolls his eyes at me. Which I think sucks since I am paying $5+ for my slice of cold, mediocre pizza.

Someone else in the group also wanted cheese, (Either Brittany H. or Lauren) and he did the same thing to them, too. Then when we were at the register, the cashier was on the phone and talking- totally blowing us off. DUDE, I need to be on time to see Wicked, get off the freakin’ phone. While you’re at it, make some more cheese pizza.

So, there’s my little quip about NYC pizza. Apparently, Ray’s Pizza is supposed to be the KING of NYC pizza, but I have to say it is a big, fat FAIL. I’ve had better pizza and customer service from Sbarro’s and they’re everywhere.

Ray’s Pizza=FAIL.

No cheese for you! NEXT!

Just kidding. But what is up next is a post on Wicked/ESB/Times Square.

Again…anyone know who Mill Mill is?