Sandwiches

I found myself wanting Subway on a Friday night. After having eaten authentic Chinese food all week, I was craving some small slice of America (preferably with turkey, tomato, and some mayo). With there being two Subways in the area, I decided to hit up the one closest to the night market. This way I would be able to hit two birds with one stone; a wonderful mediocre sub and a busy market with things I'll never need but I always love to look at.

The small journey began as going to Subway is actually a small trek. Unlike my old city with a Subway built in my backyard, basement, and infesting every street corner; I would have to take a bus across town. When I say town, I mean through rush hour Chinese traffic. Take a pickle. Now shove that pickle through some peanut butter. You have about the same effect. Still, I was set on getting my sub so I headed out.

After sitting on the bus pressed up against a bunch of the Zhengzhou natives, I walked a few blocks to my destination: Subway! Oh, sweet glorious American capitalism invading each country coast to coast. On my final street cross, I jogged up an elevated sidewalk and down the other side where I spied a woman sitting on the stairs jingling a small cup filled with coins. I quickly thought about how I didn't have any small bills, so I walked quickly by and hopped down the stairs.

Subway was in sight...but so was another symbol of the American way, McDonald's. Despite my hour trek and my initial reason to make my way over to this part of town in the first place, my brain suddenly wanted a hamburger.

No, Ryan; you came over here for Subway. 

But, hamburger.

I know, but do you really need to eat that junk?

Yes.

Well, OK then.

I didn't struggle too long before I walked underneath the glowing yellow 'M' and through the doors. I made an order and, like its name, the food was fast. Sitting down, my mind kept going back to the old woman on the stairs.

Weeks before, I had been going to a trivia night with my old roommate, Jake. We would always walk through an underpass and occasionally there would be people sleeping underground in the alley-like structure. "You know," I said, "some people can really just sleep anywhere." Jake didn't really respond. When we made our way to the top, Jake told me to go on ahead and that he'd be there soon. Instead of doing as he suggested, I came with him to wherever he was going (mostly out of curiosity). We found our way into a small convenient liquor store (because most stores are just liquor with random things scattered here and there) where Jake bought a few bottled drinks. I decided I was thirsty, so I bought one too. When we walked out the door, I began walking towards our original destination but Jake was walking back towards the underpass. Huh?

I followed, still oblivious to what was going on, as we made our way back down the stairs. Jake went back the way we came and set a drink by each of the men sleeping on the ground. Yup. Douchebag, was all the echoed through my head.

Growing up, I had always been taught to usually ignore homeless people because a lot of the time they weren't actually homeless, just scamming people. I really took that mentality with me everywhere, putting on these people blinders so I could walk by without being accosted. In my mind, I had made these people nothing and forgot that these people actually were homeless. No home. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. And here I was making a joke about how they were able to sleep on the ground. Douchebag.

Back to McDonald's, I'm sitting there remembering my former douchebaggery and I kept thinking to the woman outside on the stairs. Maybe this would be the opportunity to redeem myself. I stared down at my three sandwiches: two small cheeseburgers and a chicken sandwich. Would she really enjoy any of these? I told myself that she probably wouldn't. I ate my two hamburgers and being full, I took it as a sign that she was meant to have the chicken sandwich. Yes, by this point, I was accepting that fast food from a mega-corporation were giving me existential signs.

Cleaning up my garbage, I headed back outside with sandwich in tow to see if the woman was still on the stairs. She looked to be cleaning up and moving on, so I hurried towards her.

"Ni hao..." I held out the sandwich and she gingerly took it, not really looking up to see what she was actually taking. When she looked down in her hands she had a slightly confused look on her face as if this was definitely not what had been expecting. Without missing a beat, I kept making my way up the stairs not really wanting to see what would happen next. I had that little light feeling I get when I've deemed something I've done worthy of correcting all past misdeeds. It was a chicken sandwich of karmic justice, it was.

Then I coughed. Oh shit. The past week I had been sick. The kind of sick with loose bowels, dry heaving, and a nasty cough. I had also just given a chicken sandwich that I had handled to a homeless stranger.

I walked a little faster.