1.d. Final Essay

I’m standing in a seemingly infinite line of hungry people at Charley’s Philly Steaks inside of a Wisconsin mall. Each second feels like hours, but as I get closer and closer to the front of the line, I can feel the tension building. I have never eaten here before, and I dread becoming “that guy”, the one that takes forever to order when there’s a mob of people also waiting to get food. Line’s are stressful enough without having a bunch of hangry people behind you. What I don’t know is that today I will be eating the best sandwich that I’ve ever had. Today is the day that I learn a very important lesson: when you take a step of faith and trust someone, the results may surprise you. Flash back to this morning. My sophomore choir class was taking a coach bus to Chicago to go sightseeing. We had left the school and driven for a few hours in buses filled with luggage and excited chatter. When we stopped for lunch, a swarm of starving students streamed out from the confines of the bus. After stretching our solid wooden legs, we filed into the mall. It wasn’t particularly different from any other mall. The smalltown Wisconsin vibe had seeped into every nook and cranny of the building like a friendly neighborhood poltergeist. Shops along the large walkways of the mall sold a menagerie of items and services, from sports memorabilia to hair cuts. A small food court, with only a couple of restaurants, sat in the center of the complex ready to accommodate the masses of people that are flooding into it’s quaint space. And now I’m here; the line of people stretches out behind me like a hungry snake, twisting and turning between the tables and chairs of the mall. I look forward, and a space opens up between me and the cash register. I take a tentative step forward as I prepare to order a sandwich from Charley’s Philly Steaks.

“What do you want?” the employee asks bluntly. He is wearing a white chef's coat with the sleeves torn off; his arms are covered in a tapestry of ink from shoulder to wrist. A backwards snapback covers his buzz-cut head, and his scruffy beard matches his overall disposition.

“Uhhhh....” I stall as my eyes scan the menu, “... I’ve never actually eaten here before. What do you recommend?"

A grin slowly dances across his face, “Okay, give me a starting place.”

“Well, I like spicy food.”

“I’ve got you,” he says confidently as he walks back to the grill. With that, he becomes an artistic whirlwind, cooking steak, cheese, and peppers into what seems to be an arbitrary pile. This food is by no means arbitrary though. As the sound of sizzling beef hits my ears, it is followed up by the aroma of fresh cooked meat and veggies; it’s a flavor thunderstorm. Besides the occasional question of whether or not I like a certain food, he puts all his focus into the ingredients that he adds to my sandwich. He signs the hidden masterpiece that he has created with a bottle of chipotle sauce, then hands me the sandwich.

“Thanks.” I say, not truly knowing what I hold in my hands.

“No problem at all, dude.” he replies before returning to the cash register to continue whittling down the ever increasing line of hungry people. I slowly walk back to the table where my friends are waiting for me and set my tray down in front of everyone. Their eyes lock onto the sandwich like homing missiles; they can tell that something is different.

“Dude, what did you get?” my friend David asks plainly.

“I… I don’t even know.” I peel back the wrapping to reveal a sandwich that far exceeded any that I had seen before it. As I lifted it up to my hesitant mouth, I expected an okay sandwich that wasn’t worth the eight-or-so dollars that I had spent on it. What I got was a heavenly blend of spicy, savory, and slightly sweet. It was the mathematical golden ratio of sandwiches: perfection only seen in nature and roman architecture. The flavor filled my mouth before I could comprehend what my tastebuds were communicating to me.

“Oh my gosh!” I said, or at least tried to say as my tongue had to choose between articulating my thoughts and tasting the delicious sandwich.

“What does it taste like?” my friends all question, as I try fruitlessly to describe the indescribable. Once I finish my sandwich, I slowly approach the counter again and wait for the unlikely virtuoso to make eye contact with me.

“How was it?” he asks with genuine excitement.

“Honestly, that was probably the best sandwich I have ever had up to this point in my life.”

He chuckles and cracks a smile, “Good, I’m glad you liked it.” We share a silent moment of acknowledgement before he checks back on the meat that he’s cooking. I look back at the entrance of the mall and notice teachers ushering the students back onto the bus. As the bus pulls away from the mall, I knew that this was a memory that I would not soon forget. I took one small leap of faith with a strange cook, and in return, I was pleasantly surprised with not only a sandwich, but a moment of personal connection with a stranger. I never realized that the simple act of buying a sandwich would lead to a life lesson. Since then, I have learned to love trying new things and being adventurous. If we all take leaps of faith, perhaps pleasant surprises will happen more often.