NYC - Criff-Dog

JOE OLIVER 6/16/08: Don't Call Me Negro

This happened a while back, when I was living in NYC. My friend and I were walking to a friend's apartment in Alphabet City and decided to stop off at Criff-Dog (I'm not sure but that might not be how you spell it). It was the only place I've ever heard of that specializes in corn dogs, which everybody knows are one of the best kinds of food. We were going to get ours to go, to have a snack on the rest of the way to our friend's place.

It's a little place below street level as I recall, and when we got there it was practically deserted. The girl at the counter was cute and kind of rude and bored-looking. We ordered corn dogs and fries.

Then, this guy starts yelling from inside the bathroom and banging on the door. He sounds really drunk, and he says he's trapped in the bathroom. He is being very vulgar and it's awkward just sitting there with my friend and the girl and listening to her try to be reasonable with him.In the meantime, other employees come and go, mostly carrying take-out. None of them seem to care about their job at all--more so than in your average establishment.

My friend, who himself was a waiter at the time, told me this story where he was making himself a sandwich at work, and this coworker said, "If you use the rest of the hummus, we won't have any for the Greek sandwich!" To which he replied, "Make them without it." This was sort of a shock to the coworker. "Damn, man," he said, "you're a restaurant gangster!"

If the working definition of Restaurant Gangster is a young nihilist who shirks responsibility and probably steals out of the register at their place of work, then the people who work at Criff-Dog are most certainly Restaurant Gangsters. We observed this: they were now sort of making fun of the guy stuck in the bathroom, and meanwhile it's been almost half an hour (!) and our food still hasn't come. I know for a fact that it shouldn't take that long to make a corndog even if you have to kill the pig yourself.

Finally the guy in the bathroom realizes that he's been trying to turn the lock the wrong way and the door opens. The guy inside was not your young, hip ABC fare: he looked like a sweaty drunken tourist from somewhere in the Midwest. He was disoriented and talking really loud. He offered to buy me a beer. Still, no corndogs.

Then, this tall skinny black guy and his date come in and sit down. He goes up to the counter and places his order. The drunk dude is still at the counter just kind of standing around like he's waiting for something, kind of ogling the girl at the register. The drunk guy offers to buy the black dude a drink, and he declines as well.

This drunk guy is visibly disappointed and saddened that nobody will let him buy them a drink at the corndog place. He starts talking to the black dude, now seated, from across the restaurant. The black dude and his date ignore the guy, who is being an ass, but not hostile.

Then the drunk dude is like, "Hey! Yo! Negro!"

Everyone thinks, oh shit. Oh no he didn't.

"First of all, lower your voice," says the black guy. "Second of all, don't ever call me a Negro again. You understand?"

"Lemme buy you a drink, buddy, I'm sorry."

"You understand me?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," says the girl at the register, "you know what man, you need to leave."

"I just want to buy my man a drink!" he says, looking to my friend and I for support. "I need to use your phone!"

"You need to leave now. We're calling the cops."

The other employees come out of the back and they shoo the drunk man back onto the street.

No sooner is he out the door, than our corndogs come out. They are just okay.

I give Criff-Dog a 6.0 for the food, a 1.0 for service, but an 7.5 for awkwardness. Not recommended.