by Emily Adams
As a transfer student, my adjustment to Brown has been fairly seamless. The only issue I have struggled with is centrally located and smells of delightful cinnamon and roasted coffee beans: The Blue Room.
To defend myself and to prevent social obliteration, I have no qualms with the café itself. My beef is with the roast beef–or, well, the counter that sells it: the sandwich bar.
I consider myself an adventurous individual. I’ll order that secret-menu, double-fried, oreo-dipped, hot-pocket-battered whatchamacallit. But when it comes to sandwiches, I like what I like. And there’s no deviating. None. Until now and forever from now, as it appears.
Day in and day out, sun in and sun out, pants in and pants off, this exquisitely stocked customize-your-sandy service has left me out to dry:
INT – BLUE ROOM SANDWICH BAR
INSATIABLE STUDENT
Wheat wrap, please.
SANDWICH SANDY
We’re out.
INSATIABLE STUDENT
Multi-grain then. Thanks.
SANDWICH SANDY
Literally just gave the last slice away.
Mhmm.
SANDWICH SANDY CONT.
We have rye?
INSATIABLE STUDENT
Sure.
Bread is a necessity, but one specific bread? I can adapt.
SANDWICH SANDY
Any condiments?
INSATIABLE STUDENT
Mustard.
SANDWICH SANDY
Oh…
Sandwich Sandy shakes bottle.
CONT.
Empty.
INSATIABLE STUDENT
How ‘bout hummus?
SANDWICH SANDY
It walked away.
Damn garbanzo beans and their antagonism.
SANDWICH SANDY CONT.
You could do jalepeno mayo?
INSATIABLE STUDENT
Fine.
SANDWICH SANDY
Meats?
INSAITIABLE STUDENT
Turkey please.
SANDWICH SANDY
Turkey, who?
INSATIABLE STUDENT
Ham, then.
SANDWICH SANDY
I can’t give that to you. It’s Tuesday.
As one can imagine, the subsequent steps were equally as bleak and smelled vaguely of bologna. By the end of it all, I had a sandwich fit for a frat-boy pledge, starkly sober on bid night. I choked it down, starved, damaged emotionally—distrusting and regretful, hiccupping from the fire of a thousand jalepenos. My skin itched. I think I’m allergic to mayo.
SANDWICH SANDY
You’re not.
Guess not. But at least it’s my sandwich.
I designed it.
The Blue Room sandwich bar: satisfying customers and hunger, one empty promise at a time.
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