The Sandwich
Starting a conversation with me while eating lunch is not very difficult for the average stranger. They sit with a freshly grilled hamburger and fries, or dripping nachos, or perhaps are nibbling on a corn dog, devouring, satisfying the call of hunger. I admit that my cheese, lettuce and tomato on whole wheat bread looks rather flimsy compared to their masterpieces. I sip my grape juice and the talking begins.
“So you are a vegetarian huh?” Pointing shyly at my plate.
I nod and smile, purposefully taking my first bite. I like how it tastes: Simple.
“And it’s because of religion, right?”
“Yes, but it’s based more on the belief of non-violence than belief in God.”
“Ah yes, non-violence. So you are vegan?”
It is difficult to keep from picking apart my meal and showing them the cheese. I am not surprised that so many faces jump to that conclusion as soon as I mention the non-violence part. It might seem irritating, this rapid association. I don’t mind. I answer.
“You don’t hurt a cow by milking it, do you?”
My reward: the expressions I meet after the utterance are slightly amusing, if not satisfying. They chew and think it through. The clever ones, however, are far from dispelled.
“But you don’t eat eggs either. How is taking an egg from a chicken harmful to it?”
I try not to laugh. It’s not directly funny really. Actually it is a very valid point. The grape juice is tart.
“Is the milk alive?”
The faces think again. I look down and smile. I cannot help myself.
“Okay. So, you’re not vegan. And you don’t eat any animals. Not much left to eat here huh? Is that what you eat everyday?”
Now I have to laugh. The sandwich is well known among my crowd. They scoff at it, tease it, stare at it, try and replace it…
It never changes.
“Everyday.”
“Jeez. Don’t you get tired?”
Tired. Often, it occurs to me that a sandwich is not an entity worthy enough to tire of. It’s food. I eat it because I can. Because it fills my stomach. Because it is a routine to me, much like brushing my teeth twice a day. Of course, I go with the easy answer:
“No. Not really.”
“But I am sure they have vegetarian stuff cooking here too, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
“So? Why not eat a bowl of soup one day instead?”
“Onions and garlic. Can’t eat those either.”
At this point, the reactions are picture perfect. I once faced a girl who froze mid-bite. Why it surprises them so much, I’ll never know.
“What!? But… they are vegetables.”
“I’m aware.” I smile.
“So what’s your explanation for it? Religion?”
This is the one instant in the conversation where I hesitate a bit. Depending on what I know of the person sitting in front of me, I have to search for the adequate response. A person sporting a cross would be appeased with religion. A scientific mind would need a reference to the chemical background of the reason. A people person would smile and nod understandingly at it being a personal choice.
In reality, it’s all three.
“Religion. But there is also scientific evidence that they contain chemicals that might arouse anger. Then again, who likes bad breath?”
“They cause anger?”
Ah. A scientist.
“No. Eating garlic bread won’t infect you with rage. But on a long term basis, people who eat the stuff are prone to get angrier faster than those who don’t. I’ll admit though that both vegetables are also ~good~ for you. I do not deny the fact. I simply think that the consequences override the benefits.”
“Wow.”
I swallow the last of my juice. My sandwich left only crumbs.
“No wonder you’re so thin. Wow. I don’t think I could do that.”
“If you were brought up with it, it’d be much easier really.”
“Yeah. I guess. But still.”
I smile and watch them finish.
“Doesn’t it bother you though? If people eat meat in front of you?”
I laugh. “When I was a kid, I used to hold my nose walking into the cafeteria. It would take me a couple of minutes to get used to it. It did bother me. Not anymore though. It’s just… food!”
“Ha! But jeez. You don’t know what you’re missing out on!”
“Exactly!”
We leave the table laughing.
Acquaintance.
Not really of me.
Of my sandwich.
The Sandwich.
