So I walk into Subway, and I've got THE HUNGER, yo. Of course I decide to rock a $5 footlong, but which one?? Such a dilemma. I decide I've been on a Spicy Italian hiatus, so I order that. The "sandwich artist" slaps the meat on the Monterrey cheddar bread, then slides that hog down to what I like to call the "Fixins Zone". Just as he starts gently applying the shards of lettuce to the sambo, I look up and see the bright sign that reads "New! $5 Footlong - Steak and Cheese!".
You've gotta be fisting me. Un-fuggin-believable. NOBODY FREEGIN' TOLD ME THE GREATEST SUBWAY SANDWICH OF ALL TIME IS ONLY FIVE DOLLARS. WTF. What a punch to the cock. Those things are usually like 9 bucks. I'm almost in tears. The agony.
"You want tomatoes or pickle??" the Mexican sandwich-craftsmen asks. I regain consciousness, having just been floored by my poor decision in footlong choice.
"I.. uh, yeah... NO, WAIT." I reconsider everything in life at that moment. "No. No lettuce. Can you actually take the lettuce off of there?" I ask.
"You no want lettuce? Ok." says Julio the Sandwich Artist (I guessed on the name) as he scraps the lettuce off my Spicy Italian and back into the lettuce bin.
Then I stammer, "Uh, can I actually, uh... not get the Spicy Italian?"
Julio gives me a quizzical look. "No Spicy?"
"Yeah, I kinda, um, changed my mind. I didn't know the steak and cheese was $5... can I get that instead??"
Julio, the Picasso of Sandwiches that he is, gives it a moment to think about it. He stares long and deep into my eyes, probably determining in his mind that I'm just some sort of novice, inexperienced sandwich orderer. He then looks around and realizes its a slow night, and no one really gives a damn. He tosses the slab of salami and whatever other meat is in the Spicy Italian back into the meat bin, then warms up a glorious Steak and Cheese sub for me.
"Ah, crisis averted," I think to myself as I pay for my footlong at the register. I go home completely satisfied with the tastiest Subway sub of all time, and with only $5.49 less than when I walked into said Subway. Well worth it. Life is good. All is right in the world. And to all a good night.
This story would be all well and fine if it were true. It is not. In actuality, I fucked up and really did order a Spicy Italian. I really did see the Steak and Cheese sign as it was too late, the lettuce had already been applied over the salami and whatever else meat is on it. The Sandwich Artist really was Mexican, that part was true. The real story ends as I go home completely dejected, eating what I consider a mediocre sub that pales in comparison to the warm deliciousness of the Steak and Cheese.
Nothing stings more than the pain of a mis-ordered dinner. You work hard all day, just to get the small satisfaction of combating that deep hunger growing in the pit of your belly with a solid decision in cuisine. I failed. Miserably. My sandwich could have been so much meatier.
But the pain doesn't stop there. Today they tell me that ANY GODDAMN FOOTLONG is 5 bucks now, during the Olympics. It's like God is kicking me in the groin for a second time. Horse shit. "But you could just go and get a $5 Steak and Cheese today," my friends tell me. WRONG. BULLSHIT. THAT'S NOT THE POINT. I don't think they understand that for one fleeting moment, a miracle occurred - the heavens opened up, the sacred steak sandwich was special, it was a rare chance of a lifetime to get it for only $5 during that instant. And I made the mistake of not ordering it. I'll never get that sandwich moment back, I have to live with it for the rest of my days. I have few regrets, but I'll always remember that night, where I clumsily made the worst decision of my life.
So you see, life is like a sandwich my friends, you have a choice between Ah fuckit, there's no moral to this goddamn story, I'm just pissed off. Happy Friday.
