To the Three of You at Salumi Yesterday

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Lunch in Technicolor: Mashinging up two of the tastiest items the city has to offer: a Salumi sandwich, a Top Pot Doughnut.

"If you wanna make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and then make a change."

-- Michael Jackson, "Man in the Mirror"

You know who you are, and I wanna talk about what happened.

Let me start by saying that I understand you didn't know what you were doing. This was your first trip to Salumi, and probably your first meal in public for years. So, what you did was excusable, because we all have to be taught how to behave as members of a society. I said nothing at the time because a) I'm a big pussy; and b) I didn't want to interfere with the other customers' bliss, the way you attempted to defecate on mine.

A meal at Salumi is an occasion. It's not open very often and lines are typically painfully long. But, the satisfaction of chomping into one of Batali's best is worth every day of curing, every minute spent in line, and every one of the ten dollars it cost. But, this is all new for you. You wandered in behind my party of three, saw a short line, and figured this was just another sandwich shop you'd read about in Seattle Met.

We all have to wait for our sandwich, and wait a couple more minutes to pay. We all would like to sit in the small dining area and enjoy our score. But, this isn't the high school cafeteria. I wish I didn't have to remind you.

We all our had our sandwiches in our hands. Perhaps you noticed that after the folks ahead of me paid, they took their seats with smiles on their faces. Then it became my turn to pay for the three of us. There were four chairs left, and just before I paid, I looked at my two companions and said, "Looks like we'll be able sit and eat here."

It was at that moment that you committed an unforgivable sin. It was at that moment that you crossed a line. It was at that moment that you embarrassed the other Obama voters simply by association. Instead of waiting for me to pay, and for the three of us to take our seats, you did the unthinkable: you left one member of your party in line to pay, and sent two others to claim three of the remaining four chairs. You spit in my face, yesterday. You spit in Batali's face. You spit in Barack's face.

And as we took our sandwiches to go and searched for a table on a rainy Thursday afternoon. I thought you'd rued the day. But, you don't have that kind of power, do you. You see, when you closed one door, the heavens opened up a window to the Starbucks down the street.

Oh, you snicker, do you? I'm sure you wouldn't be caught dead inside a Starbucks, what with their delicious Pike Place Blend and unforgivably comfortable armchairs.

We took our seats, enjoyed our divine sandwiches and each others' company. And as a nod to the three of you, I doubled down and ordered an old fashioned Top Pot.

While you were feeding your smug little faces, we were comfortable and cheerful, enjoying perhaps the two most delicious items on the city's collective menu.

I hope you enjoyed your lunch. I know I did.

 
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