Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting at a table in the window of the Chickpea on 3rd Avenue, enjoying my hummus and falafel plate (hangover cure of champions). As I reached for a pita, the door opened, and five teenage boys walked in and stood just inside the door, about ten feet from me. They started to look right at me, which seemed a little intimidating, but I focused my attention back to my lunch and my reading of the Daily News (what, you think I’m going to pay three bucks for a paper on Sunday? Screw that).
After another bite, one of the boys walked over towards me. “Excuse me sir,” he said. How respectful of him. He called me sir. I’m 24. Ouch. “Can I get a picture with you?”
At this point, I was a little creeped out, and quickly took a defensive tone. “Um, why?” I had no idea what to expect as an answer. Did he think I was a celebrity? Did I know him from somewhere? Was he an ignorant tourist who found it amusing that a white guy was eating falafel and hummus?
“Because you’re a Sabres fan.”
I had completely forgotten that I was wearing my new Sabres cap. I gladly obliged. We talked about Saturday night’s 7-4 disaster to the Caps, one of his friends took the picture, and then he went on his way.
The guy at the table next to me was dumbfounded by this whole scene. He just shook his head after the kids left the restaurant. I wondered if he even knew who the Sabres were.
Later this week, a photo shop in Buffalo will develop a picture of a complete stranger standing behind me, pointing to my Sabres hat.
Previously: Rangers Fans: Delinquents-in-Training [EVI]