The Ganas website (which is where these photos come from, and they're small so they look kind of crappy) says something about their philosophy (which I skimmed over), something about owning three stores in the neighborhood (one of which I now work at), and something about hosting a weekly dinner where looky-loos are invited to eat food and ask questions about their way of living (yes!).
I was so excited when I saw this last bit—if there’s one thing I love, it’s seeking out potentially dangerous situations and hurtling my body straight into them, especially when it involves free food. I wrote the day and time of the dinner in my planner, highlighted it for good measure, and sent an email to the address listed on their site to confirm. When the evening of the dinner party rolled around, I was so gung-ho about it that I started walking for the Ganas house a good hour before I needed to be there. I arrived in front of the house in less than 15 minutes, and loitered at the corner until I felt like it was a normal enough time to go ring the buzzer.
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My first day at the cafe happened to be the day of the Staten Island Gay Pride parade, and all sorts of legitimate weirdos floated in and out. One gay guy came in and bought a whole blueberry pie, a large coffee, and a vintage Tarzan book. He was one of those shifty-eyed confrontational homosexuals, and at the end of our cash register transaction he muttered to himself, “You’d never find this sort of place in Manhattan. This is so kooky.” I all but threw his 64 cents in change back at him and replied, “ Yeah, Manhattan is much worse!!” I have no idea what that even meant, and it wasn’t even a good comeback. Guess I drank the Kool-Aid or something.
