Dork Reports

One good thing about going abroad Is trying out new foods. But when new foods poison you, sometimes you gotta go back to the familiar stuff, no matter how vanilla it is, and no matter if it also gave you food poisoning once in L.A.

So tonight was the second night in a row that I had Subway for dinner. Yesterday I gestured that I wanted the small one because my inability to speak Portuguese left me a bumbling pointer of sandwich fixings. Tonight, I encountered an employee who offered his English and I used it as an opportunity to order a f–I couldn’t say footlong because of the metric system–30 cm long sandwich. I felt like such a fatty. But yesterday’s 15cm left me hungrily eating a stale piece of bread on a dark bus at midnight, leftover from my mustard sandwiches the night before.

Too bad I still have that damn jingle in my head.