Mario's Pizza Restaurant — Restaurant in City of White Plains

I was going way too fast down Mulberry Hill—wind in my face, earbuds in, no brakes. The sun was just low enough to blind me, just high enough to look beautiful doing it. That’s probably why I didn’t see the van.

The moment stretched out—not in that cliché “life flashing before your eyes” kind of way, but like time politely excused itself and left me to freefall. And in that impossible pause, Mario was there.

Not on the sidewalk. Not calling for help. No. Mario was gliding—floating next to me in midair like a slice of pepperoni caught in a gravity glitch. His apron fluttered like a banner in the wind. He looked at me with this serene disappointment, like a grandfather watching you spill soup on a rug you didn’t realize was sacred.

“You always forget to look left,” he said, calmly, conversationally, as the pavement drew closer. “You always think you have more time.”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. I swear he reached out and tapped my forehead with a floury finger, and suddenly the sound of the city came rushing back—horns, tires, shouting. But everything was distant. Even the pain.

“You’ll wake up soon,” Mario said. “You’ll think this was a dream. You’ll tell people about the light, the fear, the floating. But not about me. You’ll forget my name, until you see it again.”

Then I hit the ground. Or maybe I didn’t. I honestly don’t know. But when I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital bed, and my first words—according to the nurse—were, “Did Mario land okay?”

Weeks later, when I could walk again, I found myself standing outside Mario’s Pizza. I didn’t remember walking there. He was behind the counter, wiping down a pan that looked older than my ancestors.

We locked eyes for at least a minute without exchanging words.

Excellent pizza. Plain...

The food is good for the price but after years of having repeat customers due to the same prices, they raise the price of the entire menu without letting you know until it's time to pay for your food. Sandwiches are almost $10 now and a regular slice $3.50?!?! Famiglia here I come! Nice rant about overhead going up and even the respectful challenge to Google what you "claim" to use but that's not the loyal customers fault. Anyone can Google the most expensive cheese and say that they use it and tell other people to look it up so that they can see for that it is really the most expensive. Maybe make a few cutbacks on staff or hours. Perhaps even add an item or two to the menu to help with the "overhead" but what do I know right? It's more so of the fact that your employees know what I order everytime and instead of informing me on the price change when I called to place an order, I wasn't informed of a steep price hike until I showed up and it was time to pay. 🤔What if I was sent to pick it up for someone and only had what they thought was the price of the food? Also why is it that when I placed my order that same night a few days ago, the menu still showed the old price?🤔 No need to respond with another politically correct response from the business...

0 customer service, I don’t know who answered the phone on 12/29 but that guy shouldn’t be in restaurant business, Christmas Day their website was open and showed restaurant open, so I placed an order of course I never get it but is ok those things happens, someone forgot to call the website and tell them 25th will be closed, I get it those things can happens but when I call to explain what happened and see how we can fix the problem because I was charged, the person who answered the phone instead of apologize for the glitch in the system or ask me if I want a credit for the order for next time or a refund or something, the first thing he said it’s was my fault and call the website’s company because it wasn’t his problem, my friends and I we just to go there all the time but with all this they just lose 3 families...