Well, CNY, I'm Here for the Week. Obviously a 1st Stop with Butch is Tuesday Night Chubby's with His Regulars. All's in Place

"Hey, Butch," a guy says entering the grocery store/pizza joint/candy shop/ice creamery/bar. "We didn't see your lawnmower out front."

"What?" Butch responds. "I can't hear you."

"Where's the lawnmower?" 

"Oh, my son is here, from Connecticut. He drove me."

Then the wallets come out, everyone buys everyone else lottery tickets and shots of tequila, whiskey, and schnapps, darts get played, pool tables get hustled, and hot dogs get boiled.

They don't have enough kitchen help on Tuesdays so the grills are closed. They do, however, boil hot dogs for their most loyal customers.

Chubby's. The Cherry Height's phenomenon that has become a ritual, an expectation, a habit, and a prediction for over 20 years now. They survived Covid, well most of them. Glasses went up for those who weren't so lucky. "Ah, but he was always sick anyways. Sad to see him go, but here's to him." 

And while in Rome (or Utica, or Hamilton, or Sherburne, or Clay), do as they others do.

An IPA and bourbon shots (which I poured over ice and added Root Beer). It should calm down from here. I arrived on a Tuesday, after all, with Mom's best Popeye impression, BLTs, and tortellini soup. Oh, and 50 degree CNY temperatures (a fluke - they're disappearing today)