Friday, November 21, 2008

Dinner and a Song

OK - embarrassing story for me. But I think it's one that must be told as an illustration of just how single I've become. Move over Sandra Bullock (Two Weeks Notice and Miss Congeniality characters), here I come - bringing a whole new level of real life pathetic to the table.

I love me some Subway. It's "fresh," it's economical ($5 foot long, anyone?), and at the Subway near me, I don't have to utter a word beyond "6 inch" or "12 inch." That's right folks, I have my very own personal Subway sandwich builder.

It has become commonplace for him to pass off whatever sandwich he's working on to another employee when I walk in - or place himself in the correct strategic order so that when he's finished with his sandwich I will be next in line. He doesn't even try to confirm what I want anymore, just peers up from under his snugly-fit Subway visor with a (somewhat off putting) smile.

About a week or two ago, I waltz in and he's over like a rocket to build me magnificence on wheat bread. He grabs the roll, ever so carefully folds the turkey on then loads me up with some provolone cheese. On to lettuce (extra - thank you very much), pickles, light mayo and a touch of yellow mustard. All the while, gazing up from under his brim.

I slide along with my sandwich, giving an encouraging "You've got it!" and "That's it." until we land at the cashier. I'm happy as can be and prepare to tell him exactly what I have. As I open my mouth, he stops me - bellowing out lyrics to what I can only imagine is some Jonas Brothers song.

I am slightly uncomfortable - with one man building me the sandwich he knows I love and the other serenading me in front of a long line of patrons.

"Umm, I have..."

"No need to tell me - he took care of letting me know," he sang, pointing at my main man.

"Oh, ok." Ummm...sweet?

"And can I please have chips and a bottle of Diet Coke," you have to specify or they'll toss a cup your way and you run the risk of flat and/or super syrupy soda.

"Yes, yes I know that's what you wanted, he told me." I looked over at my sandwich constructor and he gave me a sweet little smile and a knowing nod. I look back at the cashier and he smiled ad belted out the crescendo of Teeny-boppers Delight (or whatever it was called).

And then it happened - I blushed. Uncontrollably. I felt my entire face turn Flatter Red. Because the men at Subway have memorized not only my favorite sandwich, but also my fixin's. Then they took it a step further and serenaded me.

Who says there's no more romance in the world?

Then again, get these guys out from behind the counter and I'm sure it falls to pieces.

1 comment:

AKA said...

They are not just mere builders or constructors of sandwiches- but artists...sandwich artists.GOD!
-Kath