Wednesday, April 23, 2008

No More Subway

As a child Subway was a foreign land to me. An unexplained anomaly in the overgrown forest of fast food. When ever I was forced to go there I got the most appetizing thing on the menu, the pizza sub. A genius move taking my favorite food ever and reinventing it into sub form. As I matured my fondness for Subway did too. Dreamlike memories of riding bikes into town on a late summer afternoon to hang around the Discount Drug Mart, get some ice cream and then some Subway sandwiches to go. By this time I had moved on from the Pizza sub to the Italian BMT, which I believe stand for Big Motherfucking Tomatoes (this is not true in the least). Years later Subway re-entered my life by way of Subway Club Cards. Shortly before they were banned at all Subway franchises my brother handed me a stack of non-consecutive completely full subway club cards. This action regimented Subway at the top of the dining chain for me.Up and down the menu I went, but staying the hell away from the tuna and mystic seafood combo, Subway had become my moderate free meal with purchase of a soft drink home away from home. Like all foot long gravy trains this one too had to come to an end. And with that, so did my frequenting of subway. Years had passed, and I moved to my most recent apartment, conveniently located around the corner from a subway. I pass this establishment everyday. The aromas of fresh baked breads, frozen cheese, and high fructose corn syrup filled my nostrils with every pass. One adventurous summer day I took the plunge, and emerged with a foot long veggie with everything but onions, and a splash of honey dijion. Much to my chagrin, but paralleling what I had expected, I had invested in one of the crappiest sandwiches ever. This catalyzed a love hate relationship between the convenience of filling my belly almost immediately and the dissatisfaction of poorly proportioned sauce to food ratios, "fresh" vegetables that taste only of crunchy, and the unweighting of five dollars from my pocket. Last Monday was the straw, or should I say foot-long-sub that broke the camels back. Me and my local sandwich artist were just finishing up another mediocre stomach stuffer, and were at the final and some say, most crucial moment. The sauce. I like honey dijion, but just a little bit. My usual phrase is "honey dijion but just a little bit.....OK THATS GOOD" Monday went something like "honey dijion please...ok....thats good....ok.enough..thanks......stop...that was significantly more that what I wanted...what do you mean you wont make another...fine gimme the sandwich *and go fuck yourself cause i'm too hungry to go somewhere else and have them screw up*" mmmmm honey mustard and crunchies

needless to say I'm done with the unsatisfying transactions between me and subway. Like my roommate who quit smoking, like all those girls who quit returning my calls, and like 23 out of the 25 jobs I've ever worked..Subway I quit you!

* the words between the asterisks where not actually stated




oh and they're pro war
http://www.dailykos.com/story/2005/8/17/182752/072

1 comment:

drifter kid said...

The crazy indian people there are nice, but suck at making subs. Fuckin subway and their broken promises!