"You wanna a sandwich?" asks my father.
Sandwiches are my father's "go to" fix anytime he is hungry.
The fact is, my father is content eating whatever is served in front of him. My father is simple. Most men are simple. My father is perfectly happy to snack on a sandwich whenever he feels like eating. The more simple, the better it is for him. My father grew up poor in Ecuador. My grandmother would scrape together what she could to feed her three hungry boys. So, if my father is not eating a sandwich, he either eats pasta or rice with tuna, green beans, peas and Italian dressing, or another favorite, Campbell's soup. His favorite is Campbell's Tomato Soup.
When I was in Kindergarten, I remember when he would pick me up from school early. We'd go home and he would fix me either a bowl of cereal or grind open a can of tomato soup..or Cream of Mushroom soup, or my personal favorite, Chicken Noodle. I shudder thinking of how clammy Cream of Mushroom soup would be. Barf.
I can eat cream of mushroom soup NOW as a grown up, but I think I despised it as a child because I couldn't stand the flavorless taste of the soup. As a child though, what kid wants to eat that? Certainly not me. I once feigned an "allergy" to soup in the E.R., but that will be another story.
Another time, I went home to visit with my older boy. GC was four or five at the time. We went home for Christmas. GC was a very picky little boy though now he is willing to eat whatever kind of food.
"Giancarlo, you wanna sandwich? You want soup? Campbell's Tomato Soup?" my father would shout-ask.
"No thank you, Abuelo" and GC would go on his merry way. I would try to make some elaborate dinner in the over or on the stove, but my father's complaint was "You're making the house too hot!". But anytime I'd make that elaborate dinner, he'd eat half of it anyways... Mmmm, hmmm...
Anytime we would travel to visit obscure relatives in far away states, Mom would pack a cooler and Papi would have his lunch meat which mainly consisted of Bologna, Cotto Salami, Mayo and nasty American cheese slices. At rest areas, we'd stop to pee and then after using the bathroom, we'd eat our snacks.
"Oh, dis is SOOO good!" my father would exclaim in delight. He would then proceed to inhale the entire sandwich and anything else that he found in the cooler. Which meant if I was saving something special, it was consumed with glee.
Back in September 2002, my father ended up going on a road trip alone with my Tio (Uncle) to Florida, where my great aunt lived. She unfortunately had passed away the day before my cousin's wedding. The wedding went on as planned, but the funeral was held a few days later.
My uncle and dad drove all the way from Kansas City to Orlando for the funeral. To get to Orlando from the northwest, you'd normally take the Florida Turnpike. The beginning of the turnpike starts near Ocala off of I-75, or the "Wildwood" exit.
My father and uncle stop there to gas up and use the restroom, get snacks, etc. One such snack my father finds at this "obscure" gas station are some sandwiches. He goes to the counter and orders one, piled high with meats and all sorts of extra stuff that my father normally would never buy at the store because it would take too long for him to chop, slice or just too expensive for him to buy for his sandwiches. Both he and my uncle share this sandwich and continue on their way to Orlando. On their return trip, my father yet again stops at the sandwich shop, gets SEVERAL sandwiches for him and my uncle to snack on while in the car and they continue on their somewhat merry way back to Kansas.
Upon their return to the Sunflower State, Papi proceeded to tell my mom about this "nice place een Ocala!"
"Dey have de BEST SANDWICHES! You can get whatever you want on them!" my father exclaimed. "The next time we go to Orlando, we go dere. Okay?"
My mom's eyes got real big as my father described these delectable meats, types of bread and condiments you could get on this sandwich. They would even TOAST it for you!
My dad's mouth watered as he described these sandwiches. If there's anything my mom considers herself another expert on, it's how to eat a good sandwich. "I, " she says with a stately pause, "am a gourmand!"
(Yeah. We'll see about that. That's another story.)
Apparently, this place was the bomb diggity, according to my dad!
For Spring Break 2003, my parents decided we would do a family trip to Orlando to visit our extended relatives and meet up with my other sisters while there.
The entire way from Kansas City to Ocala, all my father did except talk about these awesome sandwiches.
"All the meat you want, mamita!" my father exclaimed excitedly.
"Oh, how nice! I can't wait!" my mom would exclaim in delight.
At one point on the drive down, my mom was listening to my dad repeat himself for the 327th time about these sandwiches, when she interrupted him.
"This isn't Subway, is it?" Mom asked.
My father with his hands on the wheels, turned in my mom's direction with a quizzical look.
"Subway? Wha's dat place?" Papi asked.
"It's a place where you get sandwiches, Papi." I told him. "Remember, we went to Sandy's once and got sandwiches there?"
Oh, yeah, yeah! Uh huh, uh huh. I remember. No, that's not this place.
We continued driving south on I-75 and finally cross into Florida. The map indicated that we were still quite a ways from the exit we needed, about two more hours to go. We continued driving until we get to the Wildwood area and discover there is construction EVERYWHERE. So much so that my father missed the exit.
The next exit was 7 miles down the road.
"I can't believe it!" my mom stated, with her fists clenched. "You missed the exit, Mario! I want that sandwich!"
It really was an easy mistake. Anybody not familiar with the area would have done the same. After backtracking 14 miles, we finally got to the exit. Papi said it was near a gas station, which meant we would fill up our tank and then go into the restaurant to eat.
Making a right turn into the Sunoco gas station, we pull into a parking space and wouldn't you know what sign greeted us?
SUBWAY.
I, of course, thought it was funny and couldn't help but laugh in the back seat until I cried. My mother's reaction though was priceless.
Turning shades of red and sweat beginning to bead on her forehead, I could tell my mom was about to explode.
"Are you FUCKING SHITTING ME, MARIO?!!!!!" my mom shouted. "We drove ALL THIS FUCKING WAY FOR FUCKING SUBWAY?!!!!!"
Totally bewildered, my father looked at my mother.
"I deedn't know!" he said. "It was a sandwich place. I like sandwiches!"
With that, my mom looked at both of us, my father with his puppy dog look and at me totally laughing my head off in the back seat, opened the door to the car. She got out and slammed the door.
She stamped her foot and shook her fists in rage.
"I'm HUNGRY, DAMMIT! and I don't want FUCKING SUBWAY! I can't believe it! I can't believe," Mom muttered to herself, "we drive all this way for FUCKING SUBWAY! I'm not eating Subway, Renny. I'm going to eat at this other place. Come with me!"
This other place, I can't even remember the name of it, but for name's sake, I'll just call it the "Country Kitchen" which essentially had any kind of soul food home cooking you want from the South.
I looked at my dad, who felt terrible for not having noticed, but then he shrugged his shoulders. I was kind of torn. I really didn't want to eat country home cooking, but I didn't want my dad to feel alone. "I'm going with Papi".
"Well, ees okay. I hongry..." and with that, we walked inside.
Papi and I go to the counter and my dad points to the ingredients to the lady behind the counter, "I want dis! and dis and dis".
Mom, on the other hand, was sitting by herself in a booth eating meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans. The look she gave my father was one of Death. She totally ignored him and when her waitress came by, my mom proceeded to complain about how her meatloaf was cold, how it sucked and how she was totally deceived by my dad into thinking there was a really awesome Mom and Pop sandwich place at this exit.
The waitress just stood there with her coffee and didn't know what to say, except, "Let me warm that food back up for you."
"No, I'm fine. I just wanted to let you know!" mom said. With that, the waitress filled up my mom's coffee and left.
Papi and I sat across from Mom at the booth as she glowered at my dad. Totally unperturbed by my mom's anger, he just sat there and happily ate his sandwich.
"Why you so angry, Mamita?" asked my dad, in between bites, with his mouth full.
My mom, with tight lips, and a wild look, sputtered, "Mario! I can't believe...we drove ALL. THIS.WAY for FUCKING SUBWAY. We have one in Mission!"
I couldn't help but continue to laugh at this whole debacle.
"Shut up, you!" Mom said to me, with her face still red. She shook her fist at me.
I stopped giggling at my mom. "Is it really a big deal that it's Subway, Mom?" I asked. "It's food."
"Yeah! It's just a sandwich!" my dad said.
"You two are terrible. I can't believe this. I'm not talking to you guys anymore," my mom said.
With that, she left the remnants of cold meatloaf and mashed potatoes. "The potatoes weren't even that good. I bet it was that powder crap they use for "mashed potatoes!"
Mom went off to the bathroom. Papi and I sat there eating our sandwiches.
"I still don't know why she so angry. It's just a sandwich," said Papi confusedly.
"She'll get over it, Papi. Don't worry. Just eat your sandwich" I said, laying my head on his shoulder.
With that, my father finished his meal and we all continued on our Not-So-Merry way to Orlando. But before we left the Subway, my dad ended up getting two more sandwiches to go.
What can I say, my father is Sir Sandwich.
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