The paczki torment us as we wait in line at the New Martha Washington Bakery. So close, yet so far. And lest we forget Michigan's abysmal unemployment rate, the bakery advertises that it accepts Bridge cards.We got here at 6 AM; we're at the end of the line, but at least the line is still inside. This bakery does not have the traditional rose-hip paczki--should we try somewhere else? The two people ahead of us assure us: no. This is the place you want to be. These are the paczki you want to eat.
We wait. The line has begun to snake outside. Even in their pre-sugar frenzy, the patrons are somehow organized enough to form an orderly, paper-clip-style line. We are impressed.
The pre-orders. Those people waltzed in like kings. Pre-orders go straight to the register! Yeah, if you want not-fresh pastries. Paczki! Let us free you from your quaint white parcel trappings!
We got our booty at 7:15 AM. Here are the saps who thought that was early enough to get there. People, get it together. It's Paczki Day.
On the ride home, as the DJ's make paczki puns and one station embarrassingly plays a re-imagining of the Monkees theme song--"Hey hey, we're the paczki, People say we paczki around"--Shak begins to understand my shock that everyone did not know what Paczki Day was.