I just wrote about a few experiences I had in the past week that were directly tied to events from my past. Happy times.
I also have to write about Popeyes, and specifically the Popeyes that was 2 blocks down from the apartment I lived in the East Village.
We were walking back to the train after dinner tonight, and I'd noticed it had closed.
Now I'd lived close to a Popeyes in San Francisco too. I can't say I'd eat the stuff regularly, but when I wanted some spicy fried chicken and some red beans and rice, I'd go.
There is a funny story behind my Popeyes semi-obsession. My first job out of college was at a big ad firm in Houston. Popeyes was a client. I was asked to help with a store launch and wear a costume at a store opening. When I started to hesitate, I was told that I was an intern and had to do what they say. I looked at the two costumes, one was Popeye and one was a chicken. I said that they probably would not fit.
We get out to the location and I am told to change into the Popeye costume in the men's room and then head outside to flag down traffic. This is what I took out student loans and got a marketing degree for?
The costume didn't fit. I open the door, holding the Popeye head under my arm so the boss would believe me. There was a little kid there seeing a half naked man holding a Popeye head. He started to scream his head off. I said 'see! - I told you it would not fit.' She started screaming, knocked on the door to the woman's room and said - "You have to switch costumes, you're Popeye now, Josef, you be the chicken. " I said this costume won't fit either. I was told to try, and had the same issue.
Needless to say, I never really recovered from this at this firm. I ended up moving to San Francisco a month later. Every time I pass a Popeye's I can't help but think of this experience. I wasn't the only person eating at this East Village Popeyes, but I think its funny that two months after I leave the neighborhood, it closed.