The Way We Live Now: Tidying up the place, as best we can. I know it's not fancy, like you're used to, but it's something. Here, sit on this box. Pick anything from the food cart. Tar fish? Delicious.
Food carts. Tavern on the Green is now a bunch of food carts. That pretty much sums it up, let's just shut it down now, go on home. I mean, deaf Mexican former slaves can overcome their circumstances and do great things, but you—well, you're collapsed in tears over the dissolution of Tavern on the Green, which, let's be honest, was a thoroughly mediocre restaurant in the first place. Shit, it's not as if we're England or something, where they made up a budget that leaves everyone with precisely four "pence," as they call worthless shillings. We're here in the richest country on earth, and there you are in in Central Park, sobbing about this dead, overly mirrored restaurant, as if you were one of the Louisiana residents who has to deal with the fact that the local economy is going to be so fucked for so long that the only sane thing to do is either move or develop a taste for oily shrimp.
You're not. You're just a wailing, keening fan (inexplicably) of Tavern on the Green, not some poor bastard in the South Bronx who needs a freaking academic genius to airlift you a single leaf of fresh lettuce. It's just a crappy restaurant. It's not like anyone is blowing up the banks around here.
Try the food carts. I recommend the pretzel. It tastes just like Tavern on the Green.