Nun vs. Sandwich

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There is a guy dressed up as a sandwich near my office. I feel bad for this guy because, well, he's dressed like a sandwich. But also, I avoid interacting with him because, to be specific, he is dressed as a Subway sandwich. I do not like Subway sandwiches. When I eat Subway I just feel sad because I can't believe I spent money on such a bland, boring sandwich--I could slap any two pieces of bread together without even trying and make a better sandwich than Subway (for the record my favorite sandwiches are at Al's Deli in Evanston, but I am also a longtime Jimmy John's customer and a fan of Potbelly as well.) So if this guy was dressed up like a Jimmy John's sandwich or a Potbelly sandwich (I doubt that Al's would deign to dress a person up as one of their sandwiches) I would happily interact with this sandwich guy and maybe even try to shake him down for a free sandwich or a coupon or something. But instead of I avoid the Subway guy and more and more lately just get annoyed when I see him wandering around, uselessly, seeming to hate his job. I just hate looking at him; he seems so bereft, not knowing if he should play it straight or be a clown or whatever. And nothing is worse than a more-useless-than-usual Subway sandwich.

Yesterday though I spotted the sandwich guy on the corner across from my office, a corner I was specifically considering crossing towards but decided to avoid in order not to have to interact with the sandwich guy. There I was, probably about to jaywalk and probably die in a traffic accident when a bolt of blue came from the sky, in the form of a bolt of blue fabric coming from my office building. A nun! A nun dressed in a teal habit walked in front of me and crossed the street and like a miracle something about her made the sandwich guy turn around and walk the other way down the street. Maybe she had a force field Maybe he's secretly the sandwich antichrist. Maybe he just had to go use the bathroom. But that nun saved my life.

Postscript: I followed the nun across the street and walked behind her a few paces, contemplating the interesting folds in her wimple/apostolnik/epimandylion/head thingy and how she was all covered up except from the calves down and why she elected to wear shoes with a two inch heel. Then I went to the beach for a while and read about Paris Hilton and got sweaty and went back to work. I wish I could tell you that I either ate a sandwich or went to church but neither happened although that would be a nice bookend.