Hamburger Makes Jay Testy!

Found the best burgers in the city yesterday, at this place called the Shake Shack. Also found the longest, slowest line in the city yesterday, also at the Shake Shack. It's this little hut in the park with a line that would make Disneyland executives feel insecure. I got on line a little after noon, which is early for lunchtime in New York City, and I pretty much just stood there.

It was ten minutes before the line even moved. Day became night and night became day again. Seasons changed. The yuppies behind me were blabbing on their Blackberries, "I didn't have my cell, and I couldn't find your work number so I thought I'd try your other work number but I got put through to voicemail. I texted you twice, but I don't know if I did it right..." I grew old and wrinkled, continents shifted, stars were born and stars exploded into dust. I was maybe a third of the way up to the Shack and two-thirds of the way towards killing the next asshole who wandered up to their friends in the middle of the line, completely oblivious to the "no backsies" rule.

I had evolved into a higher life form, with wheels for feet and a giant, pulsating brain by the time I made it to the order window. I ordered my burger, and then there's another freaking line you wait on with more tie-wearing yuppie scum while they make it. All in all, an hour and twenty minutes — and I didn't even order anything complicated like a cheeseburger or a double or anything. After the whole wait, it only took about two minutes to eat, but let me tell you, that was one good-ass hamburger. Secret combination of sirloin and brisket, special "Shack Sauce" that's supposed to be a mix of mayo and ketchup and something else. (I know, it sounds gross, but it's not.) I'd totally wait on line, say, half an hour max for a Shake Shack burger. Maybe forty minutes if there's no yuppies around.