The Day Mamdani Won: A Tragicomedy in Three Schmears
While I live in Tucson, Arizona, I grew up in New York City and still have family and friends there. When Zohran Mamdani won the Democratic Primary on June 25th, my friend Sarah Tuttle-Singer wrote about it. I read responses to her post, how fearful Jews in NYC are about this. I decided some silliness and sarcasm were needed about this. So here goes.
It began, as most Upper West Side tragedies do, with a bagel.
Judith had just returned from a tense early-morning spin class that she claimed helped her regulate her cortisol (though her cortisol respectfully declined to participate). She dropped her tote bag, unzipped her puffer coat, and opened her phone.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Harold, in the kitchen, was lovingly spreading whitefish salad onto a sesame bagel like it was ritual.
Judith burst in.
“Harold! Mamdani won!!”
He blinked, mid-schmear. “Won what?”
“Mayor! Of New York! We have to leave.”
Harold calmly placed the bagel down. “Now?”
“Yes now, Harold. This is how it starts. First, he wins. Then he makes us participate in decolonization drum circles in Washington Square Park.”
I. Bagel Panic
“But Judith,” Harold said, “where would we go? Florida is basically a humidity cult with guns. And in Jersey, they think H&H stands for health and hydration.”
Judith was already grabbing her emergency tote bag—passport, printed copies of The New Yorker, and a thermos of fennel tea from that place near Lincoln Center where the staff is just rude enough to be authentic.
“He’s going to rename Columbus Circle,” she hissed, “Frantz Fanon Plaza.”
Harold stared in horror. “But that’s where I get my socks.”
“He’s going to outlaw air conditioning,” she continued. “I read it in a thread. We’ll have to cool our homes with communal fans made of recycled protest signs.”
Harold shook his head. “This city survived Giuliani. It can survive Mamdani.”
Judith’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Harold. He wants to ban cream cheese.”
Harold gasped.
II. The Great Jewish Exodus of 2029 (Projected)
Within minutes, their WhatsApp group “Upper West Side Realists” (formerly known as “Bridge Mix & Bubbies”) was in full collapse:
- Deborah: “He wants to defund the NYPD and fund poetry readings for traffic enforcement.”
- Marty: “I already booked Tel Aviv AirBnB. Near Dizengoff. Modern kitchen.”
- Ellen: “My son says this is a win for justice. He lives in Berlin and eats vegan kebabs so I don’t trust him.”
Someone posted a photo of Mamdani smiling, and Judith shrieked. “He’s too happy. No one smiles like that unless they’re about to nationalize bagel stores.
III. Farewell to Zabar’s
Judith began packing: noise-canceling headphones (for Tel Aviv), passport, vintage copy of Portnoy’s Complaint, five jars of horseradish, and a laminated Zabar’s loyalty card.
“What about the apartment?” Harold asked.
“We’ll sell it to one of those twenty-something Marxists on TikTok who think land ownership is theft but still Venmo their landlords.”
“But the co-op board won’t approve them.”
Judith nodded solemnly. “The last defense of Western civilization: a cranky doorman and a hostile board of retirees with clipboards.
V. A Hopeful Ending?
Later that night, Judith and Harold sat in silence. On TV, Mamdani gave his first mayoral address.
“My first act,” he declared, “is to convert One Police Plaza into a workers’ sauna. Also, the budget for NYPD will now be split between public libraries and collective grief therapy in Union Square.”
Judith reached for a Xanax. Harold poured a small glass of Manischewitz.
“But listen,” Harold said softly, “he’s not banning Zabar’s. Yet.”
Judith nodded. “We stay. For now.”
“Until they make us show proof of activism to enter Fairway,” he added.
They toasted, solemnly, to the city they loved.
And to the future… however compostable it might be.
Postscript:
Judith and Harold were last seen attending a Town Hall hosted by Mamdani on “Reparative Urban Gardening.” They asked if the Upper West Side could secede. Mamdani suggested a listening circle.
