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12/14/2004: "The One"
A few days ago, I went to Roy Rogers for dinner.
When I was in high school, Roy's was all over the city, including a short walk from school. We went there a lot for lunch, as often as McDonald's and Cajun Cabin (a place on Remsen Street in Brooklyn, just across the street from St. Francis College).
Somewhere along the line, though, Roy Rogers started to be replaced. The one on Court Street in Brooklyn is now a KFC. Not much of a difference in the chicken, but no more roast beef.
There are three Roy Rogers left in New York, and only one of them is a true Roy's. The one in Penn Station is at the back of a food court in the Amtrak area, it's combined with a Dunkin Donuts, a Nathan's and a Pizza Hut. The one outside Penn Station, at 32nd Street and 7th Avenue is also paired with a Nathan's. The remaining stand-alone Roy Rogers, unless it's started sharing space with something else since the last time I was there, is at 53rd Street and Broadway, just across from the Ed Sullivan theater.
I went to Penn Station the other night and was thoroughly underwhelmed by both the service (they didn't give me the soda I asked for) and the food itself. The sandwich and fries were both cold and pretty lousy anyway.
I was left questioning things. A key staple of my previous world, something I had counted on, the fast food roast beef sandwich, was seemingly out of my life. I needed salvation!
Um, not quite that much salvation. That sign, one of the most out-of-place directional signs I've ever seen in the New York City subway system is tiled into the exit from 179th Street, the last stop on the F train, where I went yesterday on my way to the one and only Arby's in the five boroughs.
There is an easier Arby's to get to. It's in the food court at the Newport Mall in Jersey City, right near my old office at the Harborside Financial Center. To get there, all you have to do is take the subway to the PATH train, directly to the mall. Very easy.
I forgot about that Arby's, though, because the Store Locator on the Arby's website told me that the one in Fresh Meadows, Queens, was the closest one to my house. Also, as I mentioned, it's the only one in New York City.
Of course, it's not easy to get to Fresh Meadows, as I found out. You have to take the F train to the end of the line, then get on a bus that has pretty limited service.
And the road to Arby's is lined with temptation.
I didn't realize it was possible to have halal ribs. Also, it strikes me that this place has a lot of different food options for a tiny storefront. It's a strong candidate for the old axiom about jack of all trades, master of none.
I stayed the course.
The course involved the Q17 bus, which arrives at a stop that services about 10 different bus routes, including the Q77, quite possibly the biggest tease going. Two Q77s came by while I was waiting, faking me out into false joy that my bus had arrived.
Finally, the Q17 did arrive, and I knew that I was taking it to the spot where 188th Street meets the Long Island Expressway.
The bus slogged its way along, nearly throwing me forward at one red light. Then I saw an expressway, and got off the bus.
But it was the Grand Central Parkway! I was stranded, miles from home, even more miles from work, without roast beef and chilly. What was I going to do?
I was going to get back on the bus, which hadn't budged thanks to the exceptionally long red light.
Finally, the bus did make it to the LIE, and I started walking.
And walking.
And freezing.
And walking.
I was starting to question whether this Arby's was a big tease, whether I had walked the wrong way, whether I had just spent over an hour fruitlessly chasing deliciousness.
Then I saw it.
Nestled in just before an on-ramp to the LIE, there it was.
Within seconds, I was ordering.
Within seconds after that, I had my food.
In fact, the exact second was 4:52:21 Eastern Standard Time. My receipt, which describes my order as "GIANT BO," says so itself.
Giant roast beef sandwich, curly fries, orange soda and three little cups of Arby's Sauce. All for just $5.42.
This was for everyone who has ever longed for something different. For Flavio, the graphic designer at Small World, who always asked at lunchtime, "Can we go to Arby's?" and was always disappointed when there was no Arby's near Union Square and we'd have to settle for McDonald's. Even for Roy Rogers, who's spinning in his grave as his once-delightful restaurants disappear from the New York City landscape in a blaze of lowered quality.
And this was for me. Over an hour to get there, nearly an hour and a half to get to work late, all well worth it in the quest for a yummy sandwich. It was Utopia.
Utopia Parkway, anyway.
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