New York has seen its share of characters: subway poets, rooftop pigeon trainers, guys selling “vintage” iPhone 6s outside the L train. But every once in a while someone shows up who just… breaks the simulation.
Enter Pei Chung, the foodie influencer who apparently views every restaurant in the five boroughs as an all-you-can-eat-and-never-pay tasting menu. At this point she’s hit more spots than a Michelin inspector, except the only stars she’s earning are from exasperated owners yelling into the street, “SHE’S A SCAMMER!”
And here’s the part that gets me — she keeps getting arrested, released, and then strolls right back into another restaurant like she’s on a culinary tour sponsored by the NYPD.
Six arrests in a month?
Seven restaurants banning her?
One Italian owner who knew she wasn’t going to pay and still said, “Ah screw it, I’ll feed her anyway”?
You can’t make this stuff up.
The Revolving Door Problem Isn’t Cute Anymore
Now, I get it — theft of services is a Class A misdemeanor. It’s not armed robbery. It’s not a headline-grabbing supercrime. But here’s where the system starts to wobble: when people figure out that nothing meaningful happens after the tenth or twelfth time you do it.
Small crimes don’t stay small. They embolden. They escalate. They turn into lifestyle choices. Especially in a city where the message sometimes feels like: If you’re annoying but not dangerous, we’ll just see you again tomorrow.
We’re basically incentivizing mischief.
The restaurants aren’t crazy for yelling into the street. They’re fed up. It’s the same frustration every small business owner in New York has lived with in some form — you follow the rules, pay the taxes, cover the rent that gouges you every month, and meanwhile someone else gets to run around treating your dining room like it’s a photo studio with free catering.
And the kicker?
She posts glowing reviews of the meals she didn’t pay for.
That’s bold. That’s New York bold.
The Absurdity Is Funny… Until You Realize It’s Not
The whole thing plays like a sitcom: influencer walks in dripping in designer labels, orders three courses, takes a photoshoot worth of content, then claims she forgot her money and offers to barter kitchen shears.
Kitchen shears.
At Peter Luger.
This should’ve ended the storyline, but no — she showed up the next day as if the waiter would go, “Oh hey, welcome back, maybe today’s the day you actually pay.”
But we’re not laughing because New York’s jails are overcrowded or because lawmakers decided misdemeanors shouldn’t ruin someone’s life. We’re laughing because the reality spiraled into cartoon territory.
And behind the comedy is the same tension the city’s been wrestling forever: how do we stay compassionate without becoming doormats?
So What Happens Now?
Probably nothing. She’ll get released again. She’ll hit another restaurant. Someone else will comp her meal out of sympathy or exhaustion. And the cycle continues.
But one Italian owner had the most New York response I’ve heard in years:
“I think I’m going to feed her again. Hopefully we won’t have a line of people I gotta feed.”
That’s the city — frustrated, exhausted, still generous for some reason.
But at some point the justice system has to signal that repeating the same crime seven dozen times doesn’t magically become harmless. Otherwise we’re setting the table for more of this exact behavior.
And trust me… someone is watching this story thinking, “Wait — free meals if I bring a camera?”
Takeaway
New York thrives on chaos, but it doesn’t survive on loopholes. When petty crime becomes a content strategy, the system needs a tune-up, not a shrug. Compassion is great — accountability makes it work.
Photo Courtesy of ibtimes.com