It’s a Friday afternoon in July and we’re driving in the car some place between New York and the Jersey Shore. And, out of the blue, a brilliant beyond brilliant idea comes to me.  Why don’t we stop in Hoboken, and go to that bakery on Cake Boss? And so after much punching into the GPS and driving over the very same bridge we just crossed, we find ourselves right smack in the center of Hoboken. And then we see the line. Oh, the line. My dad throws out what we’ve all been thinking. That better not be for that bakery. Oh and it was. Of course it was! I mean, who wouldn’t expect that people wouldn’t wait 4 hours to get a single Italian pastry from the infamous Carlo’s?

We parked and stood with our mouths catching flies in disbelief in front of the bakery at the start of the line. My father had to confirm this fact. He approached a man and his daughter that were standing right at the front. The little girl, 11, had a little autograph book that she quickly showed me See, I’ve got Mary’s! My father asked, incredulous, “Are all these people really waiting in line to get into THAT bakery?”  He gestured to the small, relatively non-descript and normal-looking building. Yes, sir. The man responded. We got here at 9. We quickly closed our mouths and tried to look normal.

We are NOT waiting, my father decided. But my mother had a conspiratorial look as she leaned over and whispered something into the man’s ear. He nodded. I guess that’s okay if it’s okay with the people behind us.  It was, and so I found myself all of a sudden a part of a family of two from Texas. You’re gonna be my new sister! the girl shouted a little over-enthusiastically. All of a sudden there were shrieks from all directions. A slightly crazed look crossed my new sister’s face. IT’S MARY!!! she shouted. Soon, her as well as 10 or so of the surrounding girls engulfed the black clad figure. But Mary brushed them away like paparazzi. When the girl returned to our group with a downtrodden look I felt a little annoyed at the woman.

Soon I found myself pressed up against 50 or so other people clambering around and pointing. I’ll have one of this and oh one of those and three of those and 6 cannolis. Frantic looks crossed many a parent’s face as they somehow tried to prove to themselves that that 3 hour wait really was worth it. I looked around at a seemingly normal Italian bakery and couldn’t help but feel like I had been somehow brushed up into the fantasy. Twenty minutes and one chocolate mousse cake later, I found myself reunited with my family, holding a box that was tied up with the same twine as Mike’s Pastry.

Now we’re gonna go over there, my dad decided firmly. And so that is how I found myself standing in the non-existent line at Crumbs Bakery and ordering cupcakes, to do a taste comparison.

And once again, my father asked the golden question. Why don’t you have a line as long as those guys across the street?