There is a small pizza shop on 23rd, where you can find a sinfully delicious slice of greasy NY style pizza for 2.50. The man behind the counter will ring your order in manually on a cash register circa 1930. As you settle in with your slice you notice that the napkin dispenser lectures you on not being wasteful, and the parmesan cheese reminds you to share. The photographs on the wall are not in frames, they were not taken by a photographer and they are not politically correct. Layers of dust have settled on the miniature Statue of Liberty and other assorted knick-knacks that cover all available wall and shelf space. No interior designer laid out the stool-filled envoronment. No sound designer, crafted the ambient music. No advertising is necessary to maintain the steady flow of hungry visitors that stream in off the wet sidewalk. It just exists, same as it did the day before, it is simple and delicious.