March 5, 2009
I was standing in line at Heidi’s Deli—a chain deli that actually approaches the quality levels of most family joins—during lunch today and decided to give their Philly a try. As you can see in the photo, that’s not really a Philly. It’s more like a sandwich with thinly sliced roast beef and peppers and onions disguised in a hoagie bun. It tasted alright, but that’s not what this is about. I got to the counter at the right time, because I ended up chatting up the guy making my sandwich; and even though it was really strange at first, we ended up having about the most authentic conversation I’ve ever had with someone working in a place like that. It was funny, actually. He sort of sold me on the sandwich without telling me it wasn’t actually a Philly. I asked him about hot sauce and he told me he’d do me one better: the spicy Cajun dressing would make it special. Sure, sure. I don’t know how I slipped into this little world of calm surrounded by fast-food zaniness, but we talked about how he doesn’t have as much time to ski as he’d like because of school, and we talked about the weather and how we both hope Denver gets another three feet of snow next week, just because of how crazy that makes everyone. And we talked about the sandwich some more, and when it was ready I felt kind of remorseful for heading to the cashier. I even left the guy a tip, ostensibly, on my credit card bill. He’ll probably never know that I left it for him, but I guess he’ll get (part of) it anyway which is good enough. Heidi’s isn’t like the pinnacle of all sandwich shops or anything, but I think I’ll probably go back again a lot sooner than I usually would. In the strangest way, I felt like going there was a good idea for a whole bunch of extra reasons that I can’t describe. Obviously—I wouldn’t be writing about some dude who built my sandwich if it didn’t hold some sort of added significance. Good lunch.

I was standing in line at Heidi’s Deli—a chain deli that actually approaches the quality levels of most family joins—during lunch today and decided to give their Philly a try. As you can see in the photo, that’s not really a Philly. It’s more like a sandwich with thinly sliced roast beef and peppers and onions disguised in a hoagie bun. It tasted alright, but that’s not what this is about.

I got to the counter at the right time, because I ended up chatting up the guy making my sandwich; and even though it was really strange at first, we ended up having about the most authentic conversation I’ve ever had with someone working in a place like that. It was funny, actually. He sort of sold me on the sandwich without telling me it wasn’t actually a Philly. I asked him about hot sauce and he told me he’d do me one better: the spicy Cajun dressing would make it special. Sure, sure.

I don’t know how I slipped into this little world of calm surrounded by fast-food zaniness, but we talked about how he doesn’t have as much time to ski as he’d like because of school, and we talked about the weather and how we both hope Denver gets another three feet of snow next week, just because of how crazy that makes everyone. And we talked about the sandwich some more, and when it was ready I felt kind of remorseful for heading to the cashier. I even left the guy a tip, ostensibly, on my credit card bill. He’ll probably never know that I left it for him, but I guess he’ll get (part of) it anyway which is good enough.

Heidi’s isn’t like the pinnacle of all sandwich shops or anything, but I think I’ll probably go back again a lot sooner than I usually would. In the strangest way, I felt like going there was a good idea for a whole bunch of extra reasons that I can’t describe. Obviously—I wouldn’t be writing about some dude who built my sandwich if it didn’t hold some sort of added significance.

Good lunch.

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