The moment I walked into this Westminster establishment, I was stopped dead in my tracks by the overwhelming stench of teen angst - it was as if the employees' raging high school hormones were permeating out of the yesterday's fresh bread that lined the cooling racks.
I gulped, attempting to gather the courage necessary to step up to the counter and order my sub. I simply could not. My eyes darted back and forth anxiously. I just couldn't do it. I coaxed my girlfriend over to order before me, telling her that I needed more time to decide exactly which sandwich was perfect for me; which sandwich would fulfill my deli needs.
I spotted a young man behind the counter, only halfway in view. All I needed to see was his headwear. Upon his hire, he had chosen to boast a visor instead of the classic hat that the other employees wore. A feeling of uneasiness slowly began to gnaw at the pit of my stomach. The young man's hair was also pushed above the top of the visor. I had to put my hand on my girlfriend's shoulder to right myself; for when I discovered this, my knees buckled in astonishment and I nearly had to take a knee at the cashier's station.
"Should I get the Big Kahuna or the Philly Cheese Steak?" She asked the green haired cashier.
A simple question. As basic as yes or no. That was all. One, or two? Black, or white? Sí, o no? This was absolutely not the case for the cashier. Instead, the cashier recommended a ghastly franken-wich, a mixture of the two. I turned away in disgust, cupping my hands over my ears to silence the horrors I had been forced to behold.
She ordered it. With trembling fingers, I pointed to the #10 combo: The Italian Cold Cut.
As we walked to the soda machine, we discovered that all of the lid sizes were off by a centimeter in diameter. In order to lid our sodas, we had to slightly fold in part of the rim of our cups. I managed to lid mine, and when I looked up, I was making eye contact with the visor boy. I fought back vomit and squeezed my eyes shut until the nausea subsided - I DID NOT TRUST THIS VISOR. His every movement was a testament to the evil that lives deep within us all. It was as if his hair was MOCKING me, PICKING at my deepest feelings of uncertainty.
I am not sure how I made it through this meal. I chewed each bite frantically, doused in a cold sweat that chilled the very core of my being. The juices that dripped from my girlfriend's sandwich rained onto her sandwich foil the way pigs blood splatters the floors of a slaughterhouse. My pupils dilated as each drop hit the foil - Cathartic. Macabre.
"May The Lord have mercy on our souls," I whispered breathlessly as we walked out of the establishment back into the light of the living world.
My girlfriend enjoyed her sandwich and so did I! The bread tasted great and the meat was delicious on my cold cut Italian. If in the area, I would recommend stopping by. I'd definitely eat here again! read more