I thought I’d put in an unashamed plug for Subway – the food chain. Don’t get me wrong; the two times I’ve had a sub from Subway I’ve enjoyed the grub. But this is how the two times happened.
I had just arrived in Boston, USA, to study. Back then the Subway chain hadn’t reached New Zealand. I had a couple of days before lectures started so I learnt how to catch a bus from the suburbs into downtown Boston and do some exploring. Lunch time came. There was a take-away called “Subway”. I was greeted by a cheery fellow behind the counter.
“Lkj, gja, lkjhsf, lkjd, or tdxd inches?”
Inches? I presume you’re not talking about… um.. I’m metric. Inches?
“Do you want rfv, thn, asdfg, gsdf, ,yuk, or sdf?”
Um…
“Sauce? Wge, fhh, sdfff, mustard or lkeb?”
Eureka! I comprehended a word: mustard!
I came away with half a metre long French baguette. To this day I have no clue what was inside.
My second Subway experience was in Auckland, North Island, New Zealand. My oldest sister was visiting from the South Island and we went “shopping”. Lunchtime came. Sue suggested Subway.
“Lkj, gja, lkjhsf, lkjd, or tdxd inches?”
Inches? I’m metric. Inches?
“Do you want rfv, thn, asdfg, gsdf, ,yuk, or sdf?”
Um…
“Sauce? Wge, fhh, sdfff, garlic or lkeb?”
Eureka! I comprehended a word: garlic!
I came away with half a metre long French baguette. And a permanent fear of fast food chains.
Back to Index
Next Story
Previous Story