The taste of summer

Previously posted to the March records list.

One of my favorite things about New York in the spring and summer is getting Mr. Softee ice cream. Mr. Softee ice cream trucks are the most common ice cream trucks in New York City, with a catchy, sweet summer song, and a smiling ice cream headed gentleman painted on the side. I'm one of the only grownups I know who will race out in the street when the trucks go by (alerted by the jingle) shouting, "SOFTEE! SOFTEEEEEEE!," with a desperation and love people my age feel very rarely for ice cream. I love watching the milkshake machine, and the noisy hum it makes, and the way a dipped cone gets visibly soft in the hot sun. I grew up in a place where there weren't any ice cream trucks, and I can't get enough. I am making up for lost time.

#1
Morningside Heights

A rumor was going around that the Mr. Softee on the corner sold drugs out of his truck. My friend Hillary decided to find out for sure. She asked the Softee, "do you have any drugs?" He said, "yeah. but not for you, pretty." Later that summer I saw a guy mysteriously hand the softee a "book". The softee handed him back a black "water bottle." They caught me watching them, and the softee winked at me and said to the other guy, "she's cool, man." I felt proud that I looked dubious enough to witness ice cream drug exchanges (previously in my neighborhood I had been called 'whitesey' and 'narc-o'). My cherry cone was free that day.

#2 Cumberland St., Brooklyn

My old roommate Marc and I used to keep stacks of quarters on the bookshelf by the front door, so that we could race outside as soon as the music sounded (this Softee didn't linger long on the block sometimes and had to be chased). I ordered more ice cream in the summer of 2001 than I ever have in my life, so i got to know this Mr. Softee pretty well. This exchange happened in August, 2001:

Mr. Softee: Hey, cherry cone (my nickname, due to my favorite order).
Me: Hey, Mr. Softee. One vanilla sandwich and one cherry dipped cone, please.
Mr. Softee: Hey, you want to go for a ride sometime?
me: IN THE TRUCK??!!! Oh my god! Yes!
mr. softee: (scornfully) No, I got a Toyota.
Me: Oh. But I want to ride in the TRUCK.
Mr. Softee: You can't ride in the truck. It's against the policy.
me: Not even just to make one milkshake?
Mr. Softee (getting a little upset): No.
me: Awww.
Mr. Softee: Forget it.

Sometimes on hot summer days as I'm trudging around the city, sweating, I wish Mr. Softee would give me another chance. That he'd come by in his toyota with air conditioning, and a chocolate sundae ready for me in the drink holder, and drive me where I need to go.

#3
5th ave. and 2nd street, Brooklyn

This is my current apartment. This Mr. Softee doesn't seem to be the best promoter of his own product. In one memorable encounter, he said, "these cones got a lot of calories in them, ya know". I gave him a kind of "thanks a lot" look and said, "luckily, my gym is right there on the corner of Union!" He said, "Phew, that's good, cause if I ate one of these cones, I would head RIGHT over to the gym." Out of some kind of misguided revenge, I said, "I'll ALSO have a great white bar (which is shaped like a shark)". His eyes got really wide but he didn't say anything. I ate both ice creams with giddy happiness, felt really, really horribly full, and went to The Gate to have a beer. Going to the gym didn't even cross my mind.

*This update typed while listening to Peanut Butter Wolf.