And although I tell myself it’s probably based in something rooted deep within our psyche to want sweets, I have never been able to understand how to this day, if I walk past the Magnolia on Bleecker in the West Village, there will still almost always be a line, even though the gourmet cupcake trend is dead, has been buried, and is now threatening to come back as some sad zombie. There might be some Proustian reaction conjured up in the mind of an East Bay transplant who stands in the lunchtime line at Dos Toros off Union Square because they make the closest thing to a decent burrito in New York I can appreciate that particular kind of food longing. These things seem alien to me, but in some weird, masochistic way, no matter how much of a pain in the ass the daily grind is, I could probably be convinced that any of those instances make sense people have their quirks, and I can respect that. A more adventurous person might say you should just smash the two things together, and save yourself a lot of time, but there are actually lots of people out that just need to get a Cronut that badly. That means you have to get there around six in the morning just to have a shot at eating a monstrous donut-croissant hybrid.
People gladly stand outside of Dominique Ansel Bakery, which promises, “if you arrive prior to 7:00 am on a week day,” your chances of eating their signature Cronut are greatly improved. There is something strange about the way people wait in lines in New York City for food: the bleary-eyed standing out the door during rush hour at Café Grumpy in Park Slope when they could easily get their caffeine fix cheaper and quicker across the street at the diner the Shake Shack types that check the “Shack Cam” to see just how long the line to get a hot dog is the drunken masses that will pass out in line waiting for a single slice of pizza on MacDougal.
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