News & Politics

Man Stabbed Over Drunk Food in a Crime Most DC

A Jumbo Slice is nothing to die for.

Photo by Peter Fitzgerald
The facts:
  • At zero dark thirty on Sunday night, a man cut another man waiting in line for a humongous slice of pizza at Jumbo Pizza on U Street, between 13th and 14th streets. This pizza tastes exactly like regular pizza, but bigger.
  • In an effort to preserve drunk democracy, the man who was cut confronted the line-cutter, who took a knife out of his backpack, and, you know, cut him (literally). That man was placed under arrest, according to Borderstan.
  • The stabbing victim went to the hospital to be treated for injuries (they were not life-threatening). It’s worth noting that before the victim succumbed to the sidewalk, he punched his stabber unconscious.
The details of this story are as insane as the themes are universal. If anything defines the swell of humans down U Street, not to mention down 18th, on a Saturday night, it’s a shared sense that they own the place and a thirst for colossal pizza. I say this as a member of the community, who actually does sort of own the place (well, I rent some of it.) Here are some things I’ve seen lately:  
      • A woman, about the age of 20, sitting by herself with her elephantine pizza, in the alcove of the check cashing place, crying, saying she couldn’t find her friends, but that they would find her. She declined assistance.
      • Two men taking turns stoically punching each other in the arm just to see who would be the first to bleed or chicken out. Their friends watched on from the immense pizza line. I did not engage.
      • A police officer, or at least a human impersonating a police officer, leaning on a bike rack, theoretically on duty, smoking a cigar while his partner engaged with local drunks. (This one did not directly involve gargantuan pizza, but occurred on a Jumbo Slice adjacent corner). My husband requested that I not engage the officer with the cigar.
  What exactly is it about Jumbo Slice that drives people wild? Is it the 5 dollar price tag? If drunk people were offered socially-acceptable amounts of pizza for $2.50 would they be less tempted? Why doesn’t everyone go to Amsterdam Falafel instead, where the prices are similar but the toppings endless? Unlike other drunk crimes committed by the Ryan Lochtes of DC, this one has been solved. But it has yet to be explained.

Contributing Editor

Amanda has contributed to Washingtonian since 2016. She has written about the right-wing media personality Britt McHenry, chronicled her night with Stormy Daniels, and come clean about owning too much stuff. She lives on H Street. She can be reached at [email protected]