Addendum: Pizza

When I was eating sushi last night I was arrested by the image of the Domino's storefront across the street from the sushi place. This was in the neighborhood just south of Columbia University that's an elegant mix of "gritty" and "collegiate," and outside it was raining and cold. What I found moving about the Domino's -- spare, functional, harshly-lit, bearing the requisite branding and a blue and pink neon sign that advertised hot wings -- was not just its ugly-American grossness, but also its familiarity. It wasn't comforting to me, but I appreciated that it could be comforting to someone. I was reminded of the kids I hung out with during my NYU semester abroad in London, who were happy to eat five meals a week at the Burger King near St. Pancras Station. Also of my old roommate Tim from Wisconsin, a deeply conflicted young guy who hated his job in sales and his life in New York. I'd come home to find him watching HBO in the dark, drinking Miller Lite and almost always eating a gross fast-food pizza. Domino's was good to him, a constant in this fast-paced, cruel, unstable environment. That made me kind of almost like it.

Also, I think I have an over-developed sense of pop culture and kitsch which is made glad by any fast food chain, its logo and the lore that surrounds it.

Anyway, it was an emotional moment for me, weirdly. This isn't the first time Domino's has evoked a passion that is perhaps disproportionate with its role in my life; see here.

For those keeping score, this is Nazario Scenario blog post number 800.

Comments

[Alex South Korea]

My last year in Korea was Domino's first year - and it was wonderful to order a slice of home now and again (though I had to remember to special order it without the usual pickles and corn).