A Subway Sandwich [Recounting a True Story]
Every single strand and concealed sliver of vibrant, pigment-rich hair exuded a ruthless monopoly of white colors. Yet, each strand was meticulously in place due to the morning ritual involving combing and hair gel. Despite the unwanted onslaught of time's passage, the former Detective sat confidently before me. His tale unfolded, recounting one of the most horrific and repulsive stories my ears had ever witnessed.
Detective Silver, a pseudonym I've chosen carefully, possessed the artistry of a master storyteller. His baritone voice resonated with a wealth of experience, a life steeped in scenes of grotesque crimes, confrontations with suspected drug dealers in dimly lit interview rooms, gruesome decapitations, and tense undercover transactions teetering on the brink of disaster. This was a mere glimpse into a quarter-century-long career within a prestigious metropolitan police department.
Silver and his seasoned partner, concealed in plain clothes, received orders to surveil a bustling subway stop discreetly. This location, frequented by a notorious convicted felon and parolee, was suspected of orchestrating interference in a recent crime. To outsmart the felon's senses, the detectives ingeniously positioned themselves above a rusty steel grate that spanned the subject subway stop. Conveniently, this position also overlooked the entrance to the men's restroom. Silver, musing that he had witnessed worse in his time—corpse stenches certainly ranking higher—resolved to relax and await the unfolding events.
With a sweeping motion, Silver exposed his watch, tucked under his sleeve. Two hours had transpired since they had taken their positions. Two hours of bustling commuters, clutching steel coffee mugs and scrolling on their blackberries, hastening across the subway platform.
Silver's partner savored a leisurely sip of coffee, his watchful gaze unrelenting. Meanwhile, Silver glanced above his newspaper, then casually glanced over its edge.
A sharply dressed man in his late thirties, adorned in an exquisite suit that likely cost a small fortune, entered the men's restroom. He carried a briefcase and a nondescript brown paper bag. A tap on the shoulder signaled Silver's partner to look, and a silent exchange conveyed mutual anticipation for the next turn of events. The detectives recognized the elegance of cufflinks and a fine suit, yet the brown paper bag waved a red flag—its flagrant disregard for decorum offending the streets. As no other visitors entered the restroom and no imminent threat loomed, the detectives permitted the “executive” to proceed.
The executive, oozing prosperity from his likely financial district endeavors, gingerly placed his brown leather briefcase near the water-stained sink. Clutching the crumpled brown bag, he turned towards the urinals, a mere stride away from the sinks. He paused before the urinal, casting a glance back at the entrance. Detectives knew foul play was imminent. Silver dispatched a text to their commanding officer, and a swift exchange confirmed that the executive was not their sought-after felon. A sigh of relief seemed almost audible.
Once the executive ascertained that only an unbroken stream of passersby populated the doorway, he redirected his focus to the brown paper bag.
His hand plunged into the bag, retrieving the iconic, multicolored polka dot plastic packaging against a white backdrop—the renowned WONDER BREAD. His gaze flicked to the door once more, a reassurance in the absence of prying eyes. Two slices of white bread emerged, gripped in his hand, and were promptly employed as cleansing agents for the urinals. In the aftermath, the urinals gleamed as though bleached to perfection.
And then, the tale takes a graphic turn. With sufficient urine coating on the two slices of wonder bread, the executive united them, forming an unmistakable sandwich. The ensuing events need no further description.
Summoning their commanding officer, the detectives ushered in a tide of officers, converging to ensure the executive's confinement. Amid the tumult, amidst the contortions of the apprehended executive, one of the arresting detectives posed a question: was he aware of Subway's famed five-dollar footlong deal?
-Vino
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