The Egg Sandwich Story

This morning the Number 1 train, due to track work, was running in two sections. Bad news, of course, for passengers looking to get from section A to section B. Sure, there were free shuttle buses bridging the gap, but they prove time and again—to me at least—that nothing in life is free.

Despite this inconvenience, one and all soldiered on. Sitting directly across from me as my truncated ride commenced was a woman consuming what appeared to be a plain egg sandwich. I know it could have had something else on it, like cheese, but that’s neither here nor there. What this pedestrian sandwich sighting triggered was an image of two old ladies, one deceased and one still among the living. Their egg sandwich connection, however, goes back a few years when both were roaming to and fro this earthly plane.

As one gets older, there are naturally more and more moments residing in the memory bank—some rather dramatic and profound, but most quite mundane and trivial. It’s also an infinite repository for ancient slights and petty grievances. And so it’s back to The Egg Sandwich Story and a pair of senior citizen protagonists named Anna and Louise.

Anytime and every time that old Anna’s name was brought up in the presence of old Louise, the latter’s brain would promptly and without fail retrieve the egg sandwich episode. You see, Louise didn’t much like Anna. She felt that Anna was a neighborhood gossip par excellence, a wagging tongue that was into everybody’s business. And as if that wasn’t a bad enough character reference, she ordered an egg sandwich from a diner—a half-a-block away—for delivery! Louise couldn’t fathom why anyone would order such a sandwich when one could, rather effortlessly, crack an egg or two open at home, fry them up, and put them between two slices of bread. Then, of course, there was the icing on the cake—or egg sandwich in this instance—of having it delivered! What’s the matter with her legs? She can’t walk to the diner and pick it up?

When I first heard about Anna’s notorious delivered egg sandwich, I honestly didn’t view it as a character buster. From my perspective, any breakfast-type sandwich tastes better when prepared outside the home. I’ve made ham and egg and bacon and egg sandwiches that just don’t compare to the local diner equivalents. So, how could I find fault with Anna for choosing the diner over homemade?

And now, the rest of the story: After hearing about Anna’s notorious delivered egg sandwich for the hundredth or so time, I had some new information at my disposal. Anna had actually ordered an egg salad sandwich from the diner. This isn’t something that the average person prepares at home on the spur of the moment. That piece of critical filler would not have mattered to Louise. She had Anna’s number and no egg salad sandwich was going to change that.

If there is an abiding moral to The Egg Sandwich Story, it’s this: Be ever vigilant of what’s piling up in your memory bank. Because one day soon you might be triggered to recall a certain person ordering a certain panini from a certain place, like Le Pain Quotiden. And, god forbid, having it delivered via DoorDash. Let The Egg Sandwich Story be a lesson to you.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)