Why I don't like to go into any of the city's 9 million trendy new Banh Mi joints, even though I enjoy the sandwiches:
New York Magazine
Two loud young women enter a Banh Mi sandwich joint. They are talking about real estate. The alpha girl's phone rings and she answers it, freezing out her submissive friend who stands to the side, obediently mute.
Alpha Girl is apparently talking to a real estate agent. She says, "I want to be in Soho or Tribeca, more west than east, and I want at least 2 bedrooms, with a real kitchen and a real living room, for $2400 a month. No, I won't pay a penny more."
Alpha Girl hangs up and unfreezes her friend by continuing right where she left off, talking without pause about how much she really needs a communal living space and how much she refuses to live, yet again, in the small room. Not even for $2100 a month.
The phone rings for the second time and she answers it. The friend goes blank once more.
"I understand that's where there's a lot available right now," says the alpha girl, sounding petulant, "but I do not want to look in the East Village. Really, until we're scraping the absolute bottom of the barrel, please, no East Village."