While Giuliani may have strong-armed Times Square into a shiny, tourist-filled cesspool, it feels like he barely laid a pinkie on the gritty blocks surrounding Port Authority. This realm remains the delightfully skuzzy province of transients and old-timers, ne'er-do-wells and the down-and-out, who patronize the numerous cantankerous dives and abundant restaurants dispensing dollar food.

From steaming pizza slices to towering ice cream cones, Port Authority, and Hell's Kitchen as a whole, offer the dollar-grub enthusiast a wealth of nutritionally negligent sustenance. So on a bright and brisk winter afternoon, I set out with my trusty photographer, Sam, a fistful of George Washingtons—and an iron-kettle stomach.

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