I just want to start by saying that Subway is perhaps the most over-hated fast food chain. It consistently gets ranked as one of the worst, if not THE worst, places to eat, alongside usual suspects such as Arby's or KFC. In my opinion, this is totally unwarranted. In fact, Subway is usually among my top choices when circumstances demand that I absolutely need to get some cheap, salty, and delicious slop to satisfy my government-implanted addiction to ultra-processed foods.

In all fairness, I can't say if I like Subway because I genuinely think their food is good, or simply because of all the nostalgia that I've associated with it. When I was a kid, every soccer practice culminated in a visit to Subway. My Grandpa used to take me on these long bike rides that would always inexplicably end up there. When my friend Ariel and I were dead set on becoming successful street musicians, we'd somehow always grab lunch at the coveted Church of Eat Fresh™.

I eventually quit soccer, my Grandpa moved back to Singapore, and Ariel and I ended up going to different colleges— but I still like to eat at Subway sometimes when I'm missing them.

All this to say I will tolerate no sass for the beginning of this story, which starts with me sitting in a Subway eating a Turkey Italiano. I was sort of absentmindedly people-watching while I ate, looking at the customers standing in line and trying to guess what they'd order. I've been doing that ever since this one time a couple years ago, when this guy Ariel and I knew wanted to hang out with us during band practice. Eventually we got hungry, and so we took him to our usual spot. We watched in horror as this complete sociopath ordered a six-inch Swiss cheese and mayonnaise sandwich. With black olives. He didn't even ask for it toasted.

Anyway, this time there was a guy that was just absolutely hurling abuse at the poor woman making his sandwich. I could barely catch what the altercation was about, but the transaction ended with this man throwing his footlong on the floor and actually stomping on it. You might think that I'm making this all up, but believe me when I tell you that this absolute specimen of a human male was literally jumping up and down on his sandwich with both feet like some kind of cartoon character. The other customers and I watched in horror as he stormed out the establishment, still shouting obscenities, climbed into a blue Chevy Malibu, and drove off with his middle finger sticking out of the open window.

Now, as commonplace as cars are, I feel like a lot of people don't realize just how incredible these machines really are. Your average commuter sedan generally houses a four-cylinder internal combustion engine. A series of electronic fuel injectors spray a specific amount of gasoline into each cylinder, which are then sparked to create a series of small explosions that forces each piston downwards in a controlled mechanical sequence. This explosive energy rotates the car's driveshaft, which converts the energy into rotational force that spins the wheels and propels the vehicle forward.

This amount of power is no joke, even in the dinkiest cars. Even your Grandmother's crappy fuel-crisis era Honda Civic is several magnitudes more powerful than the world's fastest land mammal. Think of the last time you took a road trip and drove on the interstate. Can a cheetah sustain a running speed of 80 miles per hour for days on end? Car enthusiasts love to talk smack about each other's rides and compare horsepower. Your average commuter grade car generally has a horsepower of around 90 to 120, which is considered in motorsports to be "low power" or "slow". But have you ever personally tried to resist the pulling strength of ninety horses? How about just one horse?

Basically, a car is a three thousand pound hunk of stainless steel, powered by explosions, that also happens to contain the collective pulling force of a small army. And I had just watched a man-baby who threw a tantrum in a Subway climb into one and drive onto a public road.

I think all of us have known or met at least one person like this. An impulsive, inconsiderate jerk who you can't even believe has the gall to treat people around them the way that they do. You wouldn't even trust this person to cover your shift at work, and yet when you see them drive out of the company parking lot in their lifted Jeep Wrangler, you somehow just implicitly trust that they'll actually make it home without running over several bystanders and causing an eight-car pileup on the highway.

The other day I was driving to visit my girlfriend when a car in the lane to my right suddenly began swerving into my lane, almost hitting my car square in the right fender. As I slammed the brakes to avoid a collision, I glared into the car's driver-side window to see that the woman driving was swirling a large plastic cup of iced coffee in front of her own face. Subsequently, the car behind me blasted their horn, overtook me, and then proceeded to aggressively brake-check me. This bold vigilante was driving a big pickup truck with a vinyl decal of one of those "Don't Tread on Me" flags messily plastered to the rear window. I had to pull over just so I didn't explode with rage at the absurdity of it all.

Every weekend I visit Costco with my old man. And every weekend without fail I see people shouting as they shove their carts into one another's way, staring blankly while blocking entire aisles, and generally having a complete lack of spatial awareness. They load their shopping carts up with Kirkland Signature mush for their troglodyte children, curse as they cut each other off in line, and then drive away in their cars.

Over 5 million automotive accidents happen per year in the United States, but yeah, I'm sure a bigger backup camera and infotainment system will fix it. Honestly, I'm surprised the figure isn't 10 million. It's a miracle that any of us are allowed behind the wheel at all.

Anyway, the Turkey Italiano from Subway is actually pretty good. You won't find it on the menu at all of the locations, but it's basically just the Italian B.M.T with sliced turkey on it instead of ham. The key is to not go overboard on the sauces, since the bread and meats are already so salty and sweet. I usually just ask for yellow mustard, or sometimes I'll just skip the sauce entirely and just ask for some black pepper. Load up on all the free veggies, and you can't go wrong.