Heh, seems like a good date to pick for an edition of the Gazette!
East Wallingford Gazette: Pi Day "It's that Star Wars thing, isn't it?" Angelica Museton, 39, ex-hairdresser and now unemployed mother-of-two was standing in line outside Valentino's, East Wallingford's only Italian restaurant for Pi Day when we interviewed her. Around her other customers nodded agreement, their masked faces and social distance not preventing them from eavesdropping or adding comments to the interview. "You know, when the guy gets burned trying to make pizza in the lava with the old guy who's a ghost some of the time. But the pizza gets made and then he opens a franchise and kidnaps the woman with the cinnamon-bun hairdo. I used to get asked to do them, you know. Twice a week usually. Harold always was a bit funny about his hairstyles." "Franchise?" we asked, trying to get a handle on what seemed like unusually ripe confusion. "Yeah," said Dorothy Styles, 62, keeping a discrete 2.4m distance. "You know, the pizza comes to life and starts a Pizza Hut franchise. They put that European sausage on, Jabbla or something." "I think you might be a little confused," we hazarded. "Do any of you know why Valentino's is offering two pizzas for the price of one on Pi day?"
We went inside to talk to Adolph Hertzo, 32, who's strong German accent made the conversation a little tricky to follow. "Ah yes, we are following in a great tradition," he said, "and celebrating the international value of Pi day. It's almost 3.2 you know." "You claim to be an authentic Italian pizzeria," we said. "You have an Italian flag hanging outside your shop." "My grandfather took it as a prize in the war," said Adolph. "After they changed sides, of course." He paused, and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Don't report that bit," he said. "Yes, you -- I mean, we -- Americans celebrate Pi day, and pizza is called pie in America. I assume you're just very confused about what a pie is, but... that shouldn't stop business! Unless you're Dominatro's. They aren't even Italian! They should be run out of all Wallingfords for good!" Dominatro's, of course, is West Wallingford's greasy, rather lame answer to Valentino's where they most serve New York slices and Chicago Deep Dish pizzas. And the occasionally Philly cheesesteak, according to our undercover reporters. We ordered the special: steak-and-kidney pizza, which Adolph assured us is only offered on Pi Day, and tried not to regret it.
"You do know that Pi Day has absolutely nothing to do with pizza, don't you?"
The question was posed by Mr. Lewis, East Wallingford's resident math teacher, as we stood across the street from the socially distanced crowd outside Valentino's. Mr. Lewis, who insists that his first name is still none of my business despite it having been nearly fifteen years since he last taught me, looked at the lineup with disgust before returning his attention to me.
"I mean, who even refers to pizza as a pie anyway?" Mr. Lewis' gaze fell on a young man in the process of jaywalking away from the Italian restaurant, a pizza box balanced in one hand. "That idiot, probably."
"What about pie, then?" I asked, then hastened to add, "Sir."
"Of course it's about pi - why else would it be called that? Why else would it be held on March 14th!?"
"I'm not sure what the date has to do with pie."
"Are you... please tell me that you at least learned pi to two digits. I mean, that's like, the bare minimum. Even kids with severe head injuries can manage that much."
"Of course I can stick two fingers into a pie," I muttered as I crossed out all of the remaining pie-related questions in my notebook. "So what would you like the residents of East Wallingford to know about the real meaning of this... holiday? Sir."
"It is a national celebration of science and math," Mr. Lewis replied, his voice growing steadily louder. Heads began to turn our way as the lineup across the street continued to lengthen. "Both of which are in dire need of recognition these days. The denial of facts and knowledge is run rampant!"
"Then do you think it would be a fitting tribute to name one of the vaccines after a pie?"
"A pi?"
"Like, blueberry, for instance. I think it would help increase the general population's trust in the shot if it was called The Blueberry Pie Vaccine, don't you? Who doesn't love a good blueberry pie?"
"Young man, I have a homework assignment for you."
"But I graduated almos-"
"Need I remind you that I can still fail you retroactively? I'll have the details of your task left at your house by nightfall. I shall expect your report on my desk by Monday morning at nine."
2 comments:
Heh, seems like a good date to pick for an edition of the Gazette!
East Wallingford Gazette: Pi Day
"It's that Star Wars thing, isn't it?" Angelica Museton, 39, ex-hairdresser and now unemployed mother-of-two was standing in line outside Valentino's, East Wallingford's only Italian restaurant for Pi Day when we interviewed her. Around her other customers nodded agreement, their masked faces and social distance not preventing them from eavesdropping or adding comments to the interview. "You know, when the guy gets burned trying to make pizza in the lava with the old guy who's a ghost some of the time. But the pizza gets made and then he opens a franchise and kidnaps the woman with the cinnamon-bun hairdo. I used to get asked to do them, you know. Twice a week usually. Harold always was a bit funny about his hairstyles."
"Franchise?" we asked, trying to get a handle on what seemed like unusually ripe confusion.
"Yeah," said Dorothy Styles, 62, keeping a discrete 2.4m distance. "You know, the pizza comes to life and starts a Pizza Hut franchise. They put that European sausage on, Jabbla or something."
"I think you might be a little confused," we hazarded. "Do any of you know why Valentino's is offering two pizzas for the price of one on Pi day?"
We went inside to talk to Adolph Hertzo, 32, who's strong German accent made the conversation a little tricky to follow.
"Ah yes, we are following in a great tradition," he said, "and celebrating the international value of Pi day. It's almost 3.2 you know."
"You claim to be an authentic Italian pizzeria," we said. "You have an Italian flag hanging outside your shop."
"My grandfather took it as a prize in the war," said Adolph. "After they changed sides, of course." He paused, and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Don't report that bit," he said. "Yes, you -- I mean, we -- Americans celebrate Pi day, and pizza is called pie in America. I assume you're just very confused about what a pie is, but... that shouldn't stop business! Unless you're Dominatro's. They aren't even Italian! They should be run out of all Wallingfords for good!"
Dominatro's, of course, is West Wallingford's greasy, rather lame answer to Valentino's where they most serve New York slices and Chicago Deep Dish pizzas. And the occasionally Philly cheesesteak, according to our undercover reporters.
We ordered the special: steak-and-kidney pizza, which Adolph assured us is only offered on Pi Day, and tried not to regret it.
The True Meaning Of Pi Day?
"You do know that Pi Day has absolutely nothing to do with pizza, don't you?"
The question was posed by Mr. Lewis, East Wallingford's resident math teacher, as we stood across the street from the socially distanced crowd outside Valentino's. Mr. Lewis, who insists that his first name is still none of my business despite it having been nearly fifteen years since he last taught me, looked at the lineup with disgust before returning his attention to me.
"I mean, who even refers to pizza as a pie anyway?" Mr. Lewis' gaze fell on a young man in the process of jaywalking away from the Italian restaurant, a pizza box balanced in one hand. "That idiot, probably."
"What about pie, then?" I asked, then hastened to add, "Sir."
"Of course it's about pi - why else would it be called that? Why else would it be held on March 14th!?"
"I'm not sure what the date has to do with pie."
"Are you... please tell me that you at least learned pi to two digits. I mean, that's like, the bare minimum. Even kids with severe head injuries can manage that much."
"Of course I can stick two fingers into a pie," I muttered as I crossed out all of the remaining pie-related questions in my notebook. "So what would you like the residents of East Wallingford to know about the real meaning of this... holiday? Sir."
"It is a national celebration of science and math," Mr. Lewis replied, his voice growing steadily louder. Heads began to turn our way as the lineup across the street continued to lengthen. "Both of which are in dire need of recognition these days. The denial of facts and knowledge is run rampant!"
"Then do you think it would be a fitting tribute to name one of the vaccines after a pie?"
"A pi?"
"Like, blueberry, for instance. I think it would help increase the general population's trust in the shot if it was called The Blueberry Pie Vaccine, don't you? Who doesn't love a good blueberry pie?"
"Young man, I have a homework assignment for you."
"But I graduated almos-"
"Need I remind you that I can still fail you retroactively? I'll have the details of your task left at your house by nightfall. I shall expect your report on my desk by Monday morning at nine."
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