Yesterday, I stepped out of the train and in front of me was my favorite pizza shop in my neighborhood. So, I walk in, order two slices, and wait by the counter. Now, like most pizza shops, a doughnut shop here and there, and maybe even a chinese restaurant, you get a first-person view of the cooking.

I watched as the Italian and Mexican men behind the counter handled crunchy dollar bills, scum-infested quarters, and extended their hands for friendly handshakes with people I'm sure...

CMH