This morning, I was running behind (I know this surprises no one) and didn’t have time to fix my lunch. I did tote along a mountain dew and a baggie of chips, thinking I’ll just run up to Subway. You know, that’s a racket. It’s like, six bucks for a sandwich, but if you need chips and a drink, all of a sudden it’s $24.

Anyway, traffic is monstrous, but I eventually get there. There is a man trying to pay for his $7 sandwich with a hundred dollar bill at 11 o’clock in the morning. I’m thinking, “What an arrogant ass, who in their right mind pays for a sandwich at eleven o’clock in the morning with a Franklin?” The cashier is flustered & asking the other sandwich artist if there was money in the back. She’s saying no, no way, the guy is halfheartedly digging for smaller bills. (Who in this day and age doesn’t carry a debit card, anyway???) “I’m gonna run right over here & see if I can break it,” she tells the man, inching towards the door, showing his $100. “Where you goin’ with it?” he demands, all indignant.

Ok, chick is head to toe Subway attire. Her coworker is there, as well as a policeman, trying to quietly consume his sandwich in the corner. Like she’s gonna run off with his money and buy pills in the parking lot & then say she “lost it”. Gimme a break. “I’m just going right here to Popcorn Video. Right here in the parking lot. You can watch me.”

And danged if he didn’t. But anyway, the other one is making my sandwich right along, and I’m directing her what to put on it. 

I’m pretty mild when it comes to my sandwiches. Lettuce, tomato, pickles, mayo, mustard on my wheat bread cold cut. And maybe vinegar if I’m feeling froggy. She finishes my sandwich, wraps it up, clears the other sale out, & takes my money. I pick it up and hit the road, while the other girl is counting the twenties back to the guy by the side door.

I’m sitting in gridlock traffic in front of the bank & thinking about my sandwich that is sitting right there beside me.

I’m an instant gratification type person.

I think I can eat a bite or two while waiting.

I get it out of the bag. It feels a little warm, but I figure that’s where it’s been sitting against me, maybe in a sunbeam.

I slowly unroll it.

That does NOT look like mustard & mayo.

I unroll it the rest of the way to expose a flatbread turkey sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers and -WAIT FOR IT—THOUSAND ISLAND dressing and JALAPENOS. 

Gag.

Gag gag gag gag, gag.

What the hell kind of person gets JALAPENOS and THOUSAND ISLAND DRESSING on their sandwich?

The kind that tries to pay for a $7 sandwich at 11 in the morning with a hundred dollar bill, evidently.

I wiped off the French as best as I could, piled up the jalapenos to the side, & tried to choke it down.

It was slow going, to say the least. 

And it still feels like it may come up at any moment, even after two hours fermenting in my gut.

Update: things have went progressively downhill since lunch. Like Minor said, I shoulda “Thrown that sumbitch out in the road & ran over it.”