And then he told me.
“I’m running for president,” he said.
He was unhappy with the rest of the menu. The candidates had too many tomatoes, too much honey mustard dressing. But he was just right.
I was skeptical. Many sandwiches have told me that they’re just right, and I believed them — only to be fooled in the end. They either tasted strangely or were overcooked or had missing ingredients.
I mentioned my concerns. He laughed. That’s why he was at the restaurant.
“I was hoping people would give me a chance. I didn’t want to be defined by the media,” he said.
It had happened before. He ran four years ago and was defeated when commentators found out that he contained cucumbers instead of pickles. Some of them tried to explain that pickles and cucumbers are, in fact, the same thing, but no one would hear it. They’d set the narrative. He was an elitist sandwich.
He wanted to know if I’d be willing to have a small bite. Right now? I asked. But I’d already eaten lunch. Still, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to sample a potential ’16 contender. So I obliged.
And man, was he good. He was honestly the best sandwich I’d ever tasted. I told him as much.
“Thanks,” he said. “Tell your friends. I want to start getting more name recognition.”
So that’s why I’m writing this post. Look out for turkey sandwich. Make sure you greet him when you see him sliding across town. Support him in the primaries.
He won’t let you down.