Bar #101 - a pizzeria.

The other night was very very warm and I had had a long day of studying and tutoring (I finally have some students), so I decided to take a bikeride over to this poor obscure multiethnic neighborhood that's only 20min. away by bike and at the end of one subway line, but no-one (white) ever really goes to, or lives in (except some artist kids who move in, but then tire of the poor public transportation and quickly move out).

Anyhow, I biked along, and it was nothing but kebab places and Middle Eastern markets and taquerias and Mexican foodstores, and everywhere you looked, there were no bars.

But, then I saw a place called "Pizzeria [---]" with neon beer sign in the window, so I stop through.

When I walk in, it's cool tiles and dance music and 3 unplaceable foreign-looking white kids smoking a hookah, an old dude smoking a hookah at a bar, and an Eastern European-looking waitress manning an espresso machine that's in front of a bunch of liquor bottles and a cooler full of beer - and no pizza or food of any type in sight.

So, I come in and I sit down and I ask her if they have beer.

"Yes," she was like, suspiciously, "But do you have ID?".

I showed it to her, and she asked me what kind of beer I liked.

"Cheap."

So, she told me their lowest price beers, and I got a $3 MGD bottle, and I just sat, and watched.

There was a tennis channel on, and the waitress stood around and watched, then and went and talked to the young kids and picked up a hose and smoked their hookah for a bit and talked some language I couldn't understand. The old guy texted on his phone, and smoked his hookah.

Later, the waitress came up and talked with him (in accented English, though, each of them!), and took a smoke off his hookah.

After like 15min., the old guy went behind the bar (so he was the owner, and she just worked there, but they were from different countries?), and after another 5min. one of the young foreign guys came up to the old guy and they chatted, and the old guy bared his soul about some woman who he was going with who he wanted to help, but she wants a job and wants things that women aren't supposed to want, so he doesn't know how to help her.

"So I tell her," he was like, "do not do that, so I can help you."

Then, after a pause, he was like, "Am I right, or am I wrong?".

After another pause, the young kid responded, "You are right."

Later, a fat (white) guy around my age with tattoos walks in, and he's dragging behind him a suitcase. He talks with the old guy and the waitress a while - they all knew each other; the 3 young kids had left by this point - and then he pulls out his suitcase and shows them a bunch of different phones.

"This one," he was like, "You should take. It's got everything, long-distance, net, all you need is a new SIM card. It's T-Mobile, but don't take it to their store, take it to an independent store, those guys will know what to do" (so it was stolen goods?).

Later, the waitress said she had never seen me before, and asked if I had moved here. I told her no, but I took a bikeride over and decided to stop, and then the conversation stopped.

I started it up again and asked about the nationalities of the store. It turns out that she's Moldovan, and so random Moldovans from the city come to the pizzeria, like the young kids. But, the owner is Bosnian.

Mystery solved.