The Fish

I walked up Girard to go explore the neighborhood. Maybe find a coffee shop where I could sit and write for a minute. There was a construction site near Girard and Frankford, with a few white and orange barricades preventing cars from driving too close. The site itself was blocked off by a chain link fence covered in a black mesh with graffiti names written all over it. Every once in a while construction workers in dusty yellow hard hats and orange reflective vests would poke their  head out to peek around, then pull back inside.

I walked past the barricades, past the construction site and a shop near them  called Sonora Pistola, to the Girard and Leopard intersection, edging into the heart of  fishtown. There were  flyers posted on street lights announcing neighborhood festivals. The Festivale in later september and the Arts & Music fest early october. There were some trash cans around topped by large metal fish heads. Joe’s Steaks and Soda shop was on one side of the intersection An aquamarine store front with neon orange accents. The frame around the door was  bright orange, and the name, spelled out alongside the building, was in big orange block letters. Inside the place was constructed like a 50’s diner. Rows of booths near the windows, and closer to the kitchen a polished silver serving counter.  The place feels nostalgic for letterman jackets, and bubble gum blondes wearing ponytails and felt skirts. Johnny Brenda was across the street. A three story brick building. On the sidewalk outside the storefront, black iron bar tables and silver bar stools were stacked near the bar windows, still closed shut at the early hour. 

I walked a little bit past Joe's Steak & Soda and Johnny Brenda until I saw a chunky guy with a curly afro walk into a slate grey building. The place had a bagel with a blonde coif, painted on their doorfront. The shop's name “Kismet Bagels” was written in blocky white text, above a salmon and blue striped awning . 

I wasn't hungry but I hadn't had a good lox bagel in awhile. I followed the curly haired guy, through the tinted doors. There was an older guy with white hair, and crystal clear blue eyes leaning on the window seal, waiting for his bagel. Two tall brunette girls were placing their order at the counter. The curly haired guy I’d followed in, took his order from a pink shelf  then left as quickly as he’d come. 

Inside, the space was tight. The back of the kitchen was visible from the entrance. A couple of cooks were back there smearing bagels. One was wearing a black button down shirt, and had her feet in some cozy house shoes. The other was tattooed from his neck to his toes. The floor was paneled in wood columns. The cashier's counter was decorated in blue ceramic tile, and behind the counter was a large shelf with several cubbies that held an assortment of bagels, in salmon colored wire baskets. Plain bagels, everything bagels, blueberry bagels. The full spectrum. Above the counter was the menu board that listed out the specialties The veg, The egg, The spicy, The bird, The fish. Then some extras like coffee, tea and latkes. 

The two girls in line before me finished their order and walked outside to wait. My turn came and I ordered The Fish. The closest thing to a traditional lox bagel.  I was awkward when I placed my order with the counter girl. Nervous for no reason. Shivering, like cold shining eyes were pressed against the back of my neck. A girl with purple hair, behind the counter was nice enough. She took my twenty and handed me back a five and 96 cents. She asked my name and number and told me they’d text me when my order was ready. I walked back outside and took a seat at one of their small folding tables on the sidewalk. The two tall girls who’d ordered before me were standing near the entrance. When they ordered their bagels, they spoke in perfect english. Outside, they spoke German to one another. The coincidence was kind of funny. Two german Girls at a place that served latkes.

The sun was beating down, but the table was comfortable. I took out a book to pass the time. “Play it as it lays” by Joan Didion. She wrote this piece called slouching towards Bethlehem, that I liked. In it she said the 60’s revolution failed, because the only tools the kids had back then to build a new society was LSD and sex. 

One of the tall German girls looked down at her phone after it chimed. Their order was ready. They walked inside to collect their bagels. A few minutes later my phone chimed. My order was ready. When I stepped back inside the girl with the purple streaks in her hair was looking at a handsome guy. Late teens early twenties. He had jet black hair, and wore a starchy black t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. He wore tiny black gauges in his ears. She was licking her lips, taking him in when I walked up. I told her I was picking up my order. She pointed me over to the pink shelves, where folded paper bags were, then went back to undressing him. I plucked the bag with my name from the shelf, and headed back out to the table. The gray paper bag had a blue bagel printed on the front. It was drawn to look like a full moon, with an arrow through it. Below my name was written in black sharpie. 

I unfolded the paper bag and pulled out a few loose napkins. The  bagel itself was wrapped in thin wax paper. I slid the wax paper down the bagel, until about a third of it was exposed to the world. The bagel was crispy. Between it, the cream cheese, the pastrami salmom, rich and pink with a thick black rind, and the tomato, shiny with extra virgin olive oil, were all pressed in tight. I took a bite. 

By far the best bagel I have ever had. By Far.

I finished up. Wiped the cream cheese from my nose, and moved on to look for a coffee shop.