My Friend Ate a Subway Sandwich

Not the Jared kind

In the past I’ve referenced my “feral friends.” These are friends who are a bit too comfortable sleeping outside, digging through trash, and eating strange food they find outside like wild animals. While I prudishly insist that my food is sanitary and properly refrigerated, my feral friends will chow down on anything they locate on the sidewalk that looks edible. One of these friends in particular has, in the last year:

1. Eaten tacos he found outside (“someone left some perfectly good tacos!”)

2. Brought home someone else’s underwear he found in the gym locker room (“they were dry and forgotten!”)

3. Eaten pizza with a bite already taken out of it that he found on the sidewalk (“it’s fine because it was still in the box!”)

But this friend crossed a line when he ate a subway sandwich. A subway sandwich in this context is a sandwich that one finds in the subway, not a foot-long peddled by Jared the perv.

See the two images he provided (below) for more details.

Image 1:

Image 2:

Ever the urban hunter-gatherer, my feral friend takes great pride in sleeping on his building’s roof and eating food he happens across in the great outdoors of New York City. If he wants to eat tacos and pizza he finds on the sidewalk, that’s fine. If he wants to wear a stranger’s underpants he found at the gym, that’s his business.

But eating food he found in the subway? The subway is the vile underbelly of the city, where everything is covered in a layer of filth and herds of giant rats stampede underfoot. Subterranean hobos haunt the tunnels, and more than one has probably slept on that bench in the past 24 hours and used that sandwich as a pillow or a seat cushion. A century’s worth of grime coats every surface and has only been cleaned a handful of times by inept and indifferent employees. To eat food you just found in the subway is unthinkable.

Rat Report has the exclusive interview with my friend who ate the subway sandwich. My friend will remain anonymous, as he is a respected veterinarian in the city. We will refer to him as “Feral Friend.”

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Rat Report: So how did this all happen? How did you approach the sandwich?

Feral Friend: I was at the Delancey and Essex stop and saw a forgotten sandwich tucked away on a bench. There was some internalized shame on my part because I knew you guys would judge me. I saw the sandwich and thought, ‘hey some poor kid must have forgotten his lunch.’ I inched closer to it until my train showed up, then I threw it in my bag and got on the train without anyone seeing. There was an MTA employee nearby but I don’t think he saw.

RR: Did you really need that sandwich?

FF: I had actually forgotten to pack a lunch that day, so I was pleased when the subway gods bestowed a lunch upon me.

RR: What risks went through your head?

FF: Risks? What downside could there be to a free sandwich?

RR: What kind of sandwich was it?

FF: PB&J! it was fine but not great.

RR: Why wasn’t it great?

FF: It was a little light on the peanut butter, and it was chunky peanut butter and I normally prefer smooth. Maybe I can leave a note next time.

RR: What kind of jelly was it?

FF: Hard to say. Red?

RR: If you hadn’t found that sandwich what would you have gotten for lunch?

FF: A chopped cheese probably.

RR: Did you have a nice lunch?

FF: Well a dying dog came in and ruined my lunch. I had to save half the sandwich for later.

RR: How do you feel after eating the sandwich?

FF: Great!

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As of the time of this writing my feral friend is still alive. I will provide updates if he keels over or develops subway fever.