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Sandwich

This is not about food.

Do you believe in Destiny? I personally haven’t given it much thought, to be honest. Why should you think about something there is no chance of figuring out anyways, if there are so many other things to think about? Like, what’s for dinner. It’s a real dilemma for me, which regularly contributes to my stress level. But it’s another story, because this story is not about food.

Couple of weeks ago I went to visit a friend. She has a tough schedule, so the only time we were able to find was Friday evening. That day I got up early, and after very busy eight hours at the office I took an hour of a jam packed train to another city. Apart of my office bag, I had a suite case with me, as there was a pajama party planed. And just to make sure I wasn’t making it too easy on myself, I injured my foot in a cooking accident a day before, so that the fresh wound was still bleeding if I walked for too long. No, I don’t cook with my feet. But it’s another story, because this story is not about food.

The train arrived at the platform in time. As soon as the doors opened, I was greeted by the deafening sounds of drums and very loud music. Apparently, there was some dancing show going on inside of the railway station. I saw my friend waving at me, but I couldn’t understand a word she was saying. We were barely able to hear anything even while shouting right in each other’s ears. In a self-invented sign language, I explained to her that I needed to grab a sandwich. I was supposed to attend my friend’s performance, and I had no idea how long it will take and whether there will be food around later. Whenever I’m going someplace new, I always check whether there will be food in reach and make mental sketches of the best ways to get to it. I take my food very seriously. But it’s another story, because this story is not… Well, I think you got the point by now.

In one of the shops inside the railway station, I spotted what I thought was a nice tuna sandwich. Because of the loud music, shouting “one tuna sandwich please” didn’t have the expected effect on the lady behind the counter, so I had to point at the sandwich I was going to grant an honor to be my dinner to. With the sandwich in my bag and peace in my mind knowing that the food has been taken care off, I joined my friend outside, and the fun could begin.

As she still had an hour of training to attend to prepare for her evening performance, I had an hour to kill in the city. It was already 7 pm, I had a long day behind me, and empty stomach was not making it better. So I decided to grab a cup of coffee, find a nice spot to sit and get to know that tuna sandwich a bit closer. Good plan if you know where a coffee place is, have only one bag, or at least no extremities bleeding. Bad plan otherwise. I had to wander around for at least 20 minutes till I found a coffee place. I paid for my latte and dropped my tired body on a chair. Finally! A moment of peace. And food! Peace without food is only possible if food is already in the stomach. Somebody who dares to prevent me from having my food becomes my worst enemy in a second, no husbands spared. But it’s another story, because… Ok ok, I promise, this was the last time. I don’t know why I keep doing that.

So I hastily opened my bag, took the wrapped sandwich, and tore the paper package apart. There it was: a perfectly sized, fresh and beautiful… CHICKEN sandwich! Now, before you scream “first world problems” or “spoiled chick” let me set some things straight. Due to self-imposed dietary restrictions, I eat only particular kind of meat. Not that my tongue will swell or start aching, but my consciousness very well might. So I mostly have to go vegetarian if I’m eating outside. I take it really seriously. But it’s another story, because… Oh man, seriously, what is wrong with me?!

So there was indeed a dilemma. On one side: empty stomach, low energy, unknown city, two bags, and a bleeding foot. On another: food that could solve at least some of the problems, but that I can’t eat. I don’t know about you, but I really hate having guilty consciousness. That’s why I always try to do the right thing, just not to have to listen to my consciousness bugging me. There are enough conversations going on inside this one head without it already. Yes, I know, it is really an egoistic attitude. However, this was an exceptional situation. So myself and I, we agreed on a compromise. We would try to look for another food place in the city for the next 15 minutes. If we couldn’t find one, chicken sandwich it is. Guilty consciousness would have to sort it out with my bleeding foot then.

I put the chicken sandwich back, got up from my comfy chair, picked up my shoulder bag and the suite case from the floor, took my coffee cup in the only free hand left, sighed, and stepped outside the coffee shop, wondering what the future of the next 15 minutes holds for me.

Read the end of the story here

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