Mr. Chicken Sub

Any time I catch someone glancing at me I smile at them. It erases the feeling of isolation between me and the other person. It's a connector.

"Hi, I'll have the footlong Spicy Italian please," I say.

"That sounds like a good one," the guy behind me said.

"I think it's the best one on the menu hands down. Which one are you gonna get?"

"You've convinced me. I'm gonna get the Italian. My wife put me on a diet so lately I've been ordering those Omega-3-chicken-whatever subs. But today, since I'm traveling, I think I'm entitled to treat myself to a real sub this time."

He told me he was heading to Minnesota for his daughter's wedding. In a weird twist him and his wife are flying out today on different airplanes from different airports. That's the only way they could use their frequent flyer points. He grabbed his sandwich and rushed out the door to catch his flight.

Sure he's about to go to one of the happiest days of his life: his daughter's marriage. But I like to think eating the Spicy Italian made him a little more happy today . . . and I had a hand in that.