Truth be told: I have been in a major Turkey Sandwich slump lately. It’s not that I haven’t been craving Turkey Sandwiches, it’s just that I haven’t been been in a situation to have one in recent days. But, with that said – I did eat at least three of them this past weekend.
Today, I was bound and determined to have a Turkey Sandwich for lunch. After some heavy deliberation about trying out a new place in town, I decided to go to an old stand-by, the bottom of the barrel: Subway. At least that’s what people believe is the bottom of the barrel in Denver. All of my co-workers looked at me as the scum of the Earth when I asked if they wanted anything from Subway. Absolutely no takers, which was fine with me since this meant that I could ride my bike to get my sandwich.
And I didn’t go to just any Subway – I went to a GAS STATION SUBWAY. In my book, the Subway hierarchy works like this:
- Stand alone Subway: still crap, but sometimes clean
- Mall Subway: disgruntled high school students, food courts
- Gas Station Subway: total crap, the only thing worse is…
- Truck Stop Subway: avoid at all risk. Stick to the beef jerky.
My Sandwich: Turkey, Swiss, lettuce, onion, green peppers, banana peppers, spinach and ranch dressing on Honey Oat bread.
My Review: A direct quote from me after I ate the sandwich: “I’ve had worse. Not great, but I’ve had worse.”
The Result: I had incredible gas the entire day. Mrs. Turkey Sandwich (who claims that she had a stint as a Sandwich Artist at a Mall Subway) paid me a nice compliment and told me that my gas smelled like the Turkey when they open the plastic bags and dump it in the bins.
Thank you, Subway. It has always been my dream to emit the smell of Turkey from my ass. And because of you, today, my dream came true.