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Jersey Mike's Subs

Tropicana Fruit Punch at the fountain count: 1 SMUchebag count: 5 Jersey Mike's has a line out the door and zero parking. It also has a sub, drink and chips for less than 10 bucks, so I smoosh my Sucking Unleaded Vehicle into a motorcycle-sized spot and find a place...
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Tropicana Fruit Punch at the fountain count: 1

SMUchebag count: 5

Jersey Mike's has a line out the door and zero parking. It also has a sub, drink and chips for less than 10 bucks, so I smoosh my Sucking Unleaded Vehicle into a motorcycle-sized spot and find a place in line.

I ordered the chipotle cheesesteak sandwich. Mine was regular-sized, but know that you can get a "giant" for less than 10 bucks. Looked like it was about 2 feet long (yes, that's what she said) and served hot and packed with grilled onions, peppers and chipotle mayo. I opted for chicken over steak because I liked the alliteration happening with chicken chipotle cheesesteak.

I have to say that I did experience a weird feeling when the guy behind the counter yelled my order to someone in the back of the kitchen instead of making my sandwich right there behind the sneeze guard. I rethought my tone of voice when I had ordered. Had I been respectful? Had I said "please" and sounded like I really meant it? These are the kinds of questions that pop up in the mind of anyone who's ever waited tables and/or seen Fight Club. When you take my food to be prepared "special" in the back, it instantly makes me wonder if I've done something awful enough to deserve any special sauce on my sub.

And then the guy next to me ordered, and they took his food to the back too. Turns out, that's just how they roll at Jersey Mike's when you order a heated sub. This is not to say that you have free rein to be a bitch in the line at Jersey Mike's. If I were you, I'd never be a bitch to anyone serving me a meal. At a nice restaurant, the hot dog stand or at Mom's house. Oh, hell yeah, your mom will stink-serve you. Don't think for a second that she won't go in the back and wipe her butt with that fancy lemon bar she's about to serve you if you keep defiantly putting your elbows on her table. You'll be chowing down on dessert like, "Mom, this is really good," and she'll be like, "Thanks. The secret ingredient is ass." And you'll go home thinking that must be some kind of hippie fruit from the Netherlands.

The cheesesteak at Jersey Mike's was good, but there also wasn't anything about it that got me super hyped. At least I didn't get stink-served. I think.

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