Show-Me Miss American Pi

The loop in St. Louis is really just one street. Like Bourbon or Beale.

It’s certainly a loop of diversity. The most concentrated spectacle of old/young/punks/hipsters/academics/innercityers/ethnic/posers/emo/ecetra. There also seems to be a decent amount of police presence at night due to the close proximity of the slashes stated above.

The loop is really called the Delmar Loop which resides in University City. The Washington University academics, residing between hipster and innercityers above (not sure why “innercityers” has a red squiggly line under it..), abbreviated it to “U-City” while also abbreviating themselves to “Wash U” students.  

Then Nelly claimed it "the Loop." Which made him proud. 

The loop expanded beyond vintage vinyl, blueberry hill, and the amazing resale shops to cross over Skinker Avenue. An uncharted territory. Here is where the pageant venue, the moonrise hotel, and Pi settled. 

Amelia & [p]I.

Pi Pizzeria is a Chicago style deep dish set in the St. Louis area code (314).

Get it?        Pie?        Pi?        3.14?        …I think it may have even opened on March 14^th.

Coming from the windy city, president Obama liked Pi so much that he named it his favorite pizza.

Again, the Loop was proud.

And again, the loop renamed the street to “Barack Obama Boulevard.” 

…Making the academics proud. And I’m sure Nelly, too.

My favorite pizza is Lou Malnati’s. And Pi is like Lou’s but in the “Lou.” With a more buttery crust.

A friend of mine took me to Dewey's Pizza which was New York style in the “Lou.” It was awesome. He convinced me to do bacon on my pizza. I have pretty much avoided bacon since I wrote it off in second grade. Never cared for it. And it being closer to topping the ‘adverse cardiovascular events’ list, it really didn’t bother me that I wasn’t a huge fan. But being a tri-again-atarian, I caved. And let me tell you, swine with wine was really quite good.

When I made my first communion, in second grade, my grandparents flew in from Newark. We planned to meet them at their hotel for pie later that night. When we got there my grandpa was crabby (not really unusual for him) and he had bought several sodas. Not pops.

The soda set up and his irritability was caused from lack of dinner at 9p. When my mother asked why he hadn’t eaten yet, he stated he was waiting for her to bring the pie. Translation: pizza. He was made more irritable when he saw Baker’s Square boxes in our hands.

As I dug into a slice of French silk I recall some background noise… “Well what do you call pie on the east coast?” “You call it apple pie or cherry pie or…”

Since progressing past the second grade and through some of the stages of slashes above I have also renamed and re-evaluated my own tastes and preferences. It has been good to grow that food repertoire. It is something that I am growing proud of. And the Show-Me State has shown me that growing that repertoire has been as easy as [eating] Pi.