Alright, Pizzeria Bianco: I don’t like you and you don’t like me. But I want to love you. You are the pizzeria in downtown Phoenix that has been voted the best in America by USA Today, The New York Times, and damn well everyone else who’s been there, but I have been thwarted in my three separate attempts to visit you, twice by three-hour waits that, due to my usual whirlwind schedule in the Grand Canyon state, I have been unable to make.
Well, this time we’re going to make it happen. I am coming to Phoenix for Thanksgiving and instead of flying there from LaGuardia, located a breezy 10 minutes from my apartment, I am flying from Newark — Newark — in order to land in the early afternoon hours of Wednesday, November 21st. My father won’t be passing through the area until 8 or 9, and my brother won’t get off work until 5 (presumably), so I’ll be taking the Airport Shuttle downtown and getting in line. I was worried that you might not be open on the day before Thanksgiving until I found this blog entry, written from a Bianca-n on the day in question. So it would appear you’ll be open. And I will be there. Even if I must eat alone, I will be there, and I will eat a full damn pizza and it will, by all accounts, taste great, and we can end our silly little battle. Which has been pretty one-sided so far, if you ask me. I don’t care if you throw me another three-hour wait; I’ll read the dictionary if I have to. We’re making this happen. Are you ready?