Order overheard at a Subway off Weddington Road in Charlotte: “Uh, pepperoni, 12-inch, double-meat. Cheese. On white. Extra mayo. Extra black olives…is that all the pepperoni you gonna put on there? OK. Lettuce, tomato, hot peppers, oil & vinegar, salt and pepper. To go.”
The poor girl behind the counter had not a clue how to ring up this monstrosity and its sire — an otherwise normal looking middle-aged guy in a foam-cap, down-vest ensemble of the kind favored by tradesmen banking on Lowe’s and Home Depot referral work to make the payments on their new trucks — huffed and snorted impatiently like every Subway must get 15-20 dupes of his afflicted order everyday.
I’m not certain, but I bet a Big Mac and a bag of pork rinds with a brown gravy chaser would have less fat and sodium. Just goes to show that there is truly no accounting for taste. That and the food police will need stun guns to keep some folks in line.
