Vanity Fair's John Heilpern invited Eliot Spitzer out to lunch recently. Given VF's apparently recession-proof budget, the Spitz could have proposed feasting on a giant platter of caviar at the Four Seasons. Did he? No, he did not:
At his request, we dined at a hot-dog stand by Central Park, a short stroll from his office in Midtown Manhattan.
"You like it regular or special?" the vendor asked automatically.
"Just a little mustard, thank you," Mr. Spitzer replied.
The bill for two came to eight dollars. "It's a new era!" he declared amusingly.