on tuesdays and thursdays, i don’t end classes till 3:15. at 3:15, i eat linner or dunch - take your pick - at uva’s finest dining hall, newcomb. when you’ve been starving all day, you lose your capacity to determine what constitutes a good meal.
on most days, i eat a sandwich. today was no exception. but today was a little different anyway, because i got to make my own sandwich - such a privilege. usually, there’s this permanently bitter and irritated woman working the sandwich line.
i looked at my bread choices and was ecstatic to find that ciabatta was available for the first time in too many weeks. i grabbed the ciabatta and put it on my plate. next, i spread some hummus on one side. swiss cheese, pepper jack cheese, lettuce, banana peppers, tomato followed. but it didn’t stop there. i made my way over to the salad bar and added carrots, cucumber, red peppers, green peppers, yellow peppers, onions, olives, bacon, and honey mustard galore!
so what began as two innocent pieces of ciabatta turned into a gigantic sandwich monster. i guess i forgot that the sandwich needed to fit inside of my mouth in order to ameliorate my lateral hypothalamus (nerd joke, sue me - angela gets it).
when i sat down, i looked at my sandwich and tried to figure out how i should approach it. the sandwich was in a very precarious situation; a slight tremble would have caused the whole thing to wreck itself. in hopes of gaining it some balance, i got a knife and cut the sandwich down the middle. stupid decision. now i had to watch over two sandwiches, albeit smaller sandwiches.
i decided to just go for it. i grabbed one half of the sandwich and began to eat it. the combination of flavors were great and exploded in my mouth, but also all over my face, hands, plate, and probably that one guy across the room. random honey mustard coated vegetables were falling, little pieces of bacon were slipping and falling onto the floor and table, the honey mustard itself was oozing out, giving my hands a whole new epidermal layer. so 1 vegetable medley debacle on my face/plate/table/floor and 12 napkins later, i emerged victorious; i conquered the epic sandwich.
the lesson? never eat sandwiches on a first date.
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