When and how I heard about Pie Hole’s Tuesday $14 large two-topping pizza special is lost to the sands of time. But what I do know is that about eight years ago, my friends and I started going to Pie Hole every Tuesday.
The ritual was simple and we adopted it quickly. We would call in our order, walk half a block to pick it up, play Super Bomberman until our eyes bled and shove pizza into our faces every time we died. An A+ collegecore experience.
Eight years later, much in my life has changed. I’ve graduated, weathered a break-up and a global pandemic, lost friends, gained them, moved around and gone through like six jobs.
But through all the changes, every Tuesday that I’m physically able, I get a jalapeño-pineapple pizza at Pie Hole. I’m enough of a fixture now that the employees don’t ask for my name over the phone anymore. I roll in, grab my two packets of parm and one packet of red pepper flakes, watch whatever VHS is playing on the cathode ray TV in the corner, make ten seconds of small talk, pay my "14 doll hairs" and roll out.
Usually, the process takes less than 30 minutes, and I’m only in the shop itself for under five. But the ritual has had an outsized impact on my well-being beyond stocking my stomach and fridge with reasonably priced pizza. It reminds me I’m part of the wider community. The rotating cast of Pie Hole employees do me the favor of remembering my name, face, and order, and my God, it feels good.
Through my love of routine and cheap pizza, I’ve tapped into the magic of what professional smart people call weak-tie relationships.