Friends on 5th

So 5th Avenue has one of the most inhospitable bike shops in NYC (see my last post), but a few blocks south is a deli fit for Kings county residents. The 5th Avenue Market (at the corner of Sackett) was our neighborhood’s collective dream come true when it opened a couple of years ago. It was the first real deli within a six block radius of me that kept its doors open 24/7. No longer would I have to cross the 4th Avenue speedway at 2 AM to buy a Diet Coke at a gas station with an attendant behind a bulletproof window. And the 5th Avenue Market beats out any deli or bodega in the lower Slope for its wide selection of gourmet treats, imported cheeses, imported beers and anything else you can imagine needing, morning, noon or as you stumble home from the bars. But what makes this place so special are the kind and charming guys behind the counter. After going here a few times I started calling them my friends. Now, half the Slope is calling them their friends. (But they were my friends first.)

The Slanter Agrees: Bad Service at R&A Cycles

Every once in a while Time Out gets it right. This week they have an article on best and worst service in NYC. They award R&A Cycles on 5th Avenue (btw Sterling and Park) with their “ConEd Award For Bad Service.” Bad service? Try aloof, hateful and inept service. As soon as I walk into this place I’m dodging the mysteriously high number of employees who stomp through the narrow aisles ignoring me while trying to service...who? I have no idea because I’m usually the only one in there. And all I want to do is buy a tube. So can you find a good deal here? Absolutely not. Everything they sell can be found cheaper in (yes it’s true) Manhattan. And even cheaper on the Internet. Unfortunately it’s conveniently close to me. So when I’m desperate for a bike tube, I muster my liberal-sodden machismo, walk into this shop and stand in the way of someone. “Help you?" the one says. “Tube,” I say. “Yo! Get ‘em a tube!” he yells to all thirty men working there. Of course not one seems to hear. “Damn. A’right. I get you one,” he says (with his eyelids showing the heavy burden of me.) And I think, not loudly enough, "I'm so sorry for buying something, again...here." So how does this place stay open? Well, if I ever start smoking crystal I’m sure I’ll find out.