It didn't take much time to order our three pies. In fact, it didn't take much time to receive them, thanks to Antico's three 900-degree ovens. But, holy crap, finding a place to sit was a nightmare. It was not too different from the Varsity on a game day.
We ordered the Margherita, the Diavola and the San Gennaro, all gooey and delicious. We ate more than half the pizza standing up. The pans were set on stacks of kitchen supplies. Halfway through, we were able to race to claim some table space.
I suppose this scene could be easily romanticized — hundreds of people at community tables, all bonded by devouring the city's best pizza, awful music blaring, the team of pizzaiolos rushing around, people talking about the char, the char, the char.
I still like the place a lot. Just, please, don't ever shout "Fire!" in there.
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