Just one big block away is Delancey Street. Some rap group from the mid-'80s had a song called Delancey Street, and if you're in the right area it's all about the gold nameplate necklaces, the old men shaving ice or selling some form of gelato for a buck, shoe shops, and bad clothing stores. I got a 14-karat nameplate for $60 from some Persian guy named Robin. If you want the gold tooth, then you need to go to the Fulton Street Mall in Brooklyn. They have it all: four-finger rings like Radio Raheem, eye patches so you can look like Slick Rick, and canes with jewels on them so you can be Prime Minister Pete Nice. It's fun for 15 minutes. Betty's sister Karen lives in a Chinatown tenement, and works once in a while at Kitchen Club, a nice eatery next to Chibi's bar. I spent a load there, and got seared tuna, some lettuce, wild rice, chocolate mousse, and special gyoza. Secret Asian Man walked right by when I had a mouthful of food. I run out to buy him a beer. Karen meanwhile, woos the customers with her service. Also on this same block (I think it's Price Street), there's the original Ray's Pizza. I guess there's a bunch of them, where they'll talk about baseball all day with authority. There's also Cafe Habana, which took over another restaurant and pissed off a bunch of locals. It's a dumb name but this area is called Nolita, or North Little Italy. I hear it's being taking over by trendies and boutiques. Scorcesce supposedly grew up here. Where did the mafia men sit on their outdoor chairs? Where's John Gotti's old chill spot? It's all gone and now Chinatown is next.

Boutiques are plentiful. Where else can one open the doors of a 300-square-foot store, put up an open sign, and sell expensive items to people? And when they don't buy things, these stores still somehow stay open! It works because people walk around. I ran into my friend Nicole. Haven't seen her since junior high.

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