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09:36:24 - 2000-05-23

YOU'RE GOING TO NEW DELHI FOR A SANDWICH?!?

So yesterday was the grand opening of McAllister's Deli.

McAllister's is a chain restaurant here in the south that make EXCELLENT sandwiches. Everyone in town's been looking forward to this opening for months.

...And my dumb ass had to go and tell Mattie Gee that yesterday was the first day of operation.

"Well hell, dude," Mattie Gee said. "Let's jet on over there and grab some lunch."

As anyone can tell you ... if you go some place on its first day of operation ... you're gonna be waiting a long time for whatever the hell it is that you came for.

You're going to wait THREE TIMES AS LONG if you're a nice guy like Mattie and walk through the office asking if anyone wants a sandwich from the new deli that opened up.

Hell yes they all want cheesy poofs from the new deli.

So we had to get five sandwiches all total.

We get to the deli and the parking lot is full at 11 a.m.

So we have to park in Kenny Rogers' Roasters parking lot.

"I'd better stay here with the car," Mattie Gee says slowly. "I've gotta make some phone calls (i.e. call his new girlfriend). You go in and get the sandwiches."

Oh, fucking great. I get to go mingle with the yuppie dicks and dickettes for the next 45 minutes. Thanks Mattie Gee.

....you insufferable prick...

I get to the front door and they've got people holding the door for me.

Okay ... I was a doorman/bouncer for a number of years. You hold the door for the ladies and men with small penises. Grown macho men can open their own door.

The guy opened the door for me. I really wanted to whip it out right there to prove that I can open my own damned door, thank you Clyde.

(I always loved the name Clyde as a kid. Do people name their babies Clyde anymore??)

Anywhooo...The counter lines are wrapped all inside this building. I got in three lines before I realized I needed to be in the take-out line all the way to the right.

Thanks Clyde. I woulda never noticed that big hanging red sign that says "TO GO ORDERS" on my own.

Damn my luck.

DAMN MY LUCK.

I got right behind an elderly Jewish woman.

DDDDDDDAAAAAMMMMMMNNNNNNNN MYYYYYYYYYYYYY LUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!

No offense to the Jews, I'm Catholic ... we in the same boat, rabbi.

But this woman KNEW her delis.

She'd been to the Carnegie Deli in New Yawk. That was by far the best deli ever.

She couldn't eat French's mustard. She had an eerie feeling that McAllister's used French's mustard and if that was the case, she brought her own mustard, and pulled out two packs of some gas station hot dog mustard packs.

The shit was made in Taiwan or somewhere.

And she was TELLING THIS SHIT TO EVERYONE!!!

Right off the bat people...I don't give a rat's ass what kind of mustard you despise. I don't like brown spicy mustard. Gives me gas.

BUT I DON'T STAND IN LINE AND TELL YOU THIS SHIT.

Granny was getting on my last nerve when she finally made it to the front of the line.

Here's a list of shit she bitched about to the poor counter girl on her first day of work.

"No French's Mustard." After checking, it was determined that they didn't use French's mustard. This wasn't good enough for Granny, who proceeded to tell the counter girl about the hives that she will break into if it's French's Mustard.

I fitted my hands mere centimeters around her throat, trying her out for size.

"No cream in her coffee". Yes lady...we got it. No cream. We're not monkeys back here behind the counter.

"What kind of pies do you have?" Oh snap. The lady was handed a menu at the front door and hadn't bothered to read the stupid thing for the previous 20 minutes. Nope...she wanted to spill her guts to everyone in her immediate vicinity about how much she loved delis.

I just wanted to KICK HER in the back of the head when she asked the pie question and watch her tumble over the counter.

Alas...I'm too old to lift my leg that high.

THEN....THEN....THEN....the old lady decided it was time to bitch that there wasn't an available table in the restaurant.

...If I had JUST brought along my stun gun, this would have been a MUCH shorter trip ...

The manager found her a table and assured her THREE TIMES that he had a table prepared for her.

Well...she couldn't see one...

DAMNED STRAIGHT YOU CAN'T SEE ONE, LADY!!! YOU'RE FOUR FOOT TWO!!!! YOU CAN'T SEE OVER PEOPLE'S BELT BUCKLES IN HERE, YOU DIMINUITIVE PERSON, YOU!!!!

I really thought I was doing the right thing at this point.

I gently took the woman by the shoulders, turned her to her right, toward the manager standing next to an empty table and gave her a little nudge in the right direction so I could ORDER MY FUCKING LUNCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Granny turned around in horror like I had just rubbed my crotch against her ass lambada style.

"Don't touch me," she hissed. "I have osteoporosis!!"

"You're ABOUT to have a foot up your ass, Granny," I said loudly. "Now move your ass to the one empty table in the whole damned building and enjoy your mustard-less hunk of shit sandwich they're going to be serving you."

The line of 30 people behind me applauded.

I ordered my five sandwiches. They took another 20 minutes to be completed.

The whole experience was 40 minutes.

Didn't even get a "Sorry you had to wait so long" from the sexy little white trash behind the counter.

I'm telling you. I am Lester Burnham personified.

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