I swear this is the second-to-last Subway at which I will ever eat. How do I know that? Because there’s somewhat of lag between Mr. Hipster’s dining experiences and when actually gets a free minute to spout his nonsense on this great Web of ours. And I know for a fact that I’ve eaten at one other of these fleatraps since eating at this one, and haven’t been back since. I’ve lost my taste. I’ve lost my patience. And I’ve lost my delusional misgivings that three tiny, slimy slices of turkey with a little lettuce on a roll is worth six bucks. I don’t eat cucumbers or green peppers (or hot peppers for that matter) on my sandwiches, so I’ve essentially been eating oil and vinegar on bread for all these years. The turkey is inconsequential. I only patronized this location once, and honestly wanted to turn around the second I walked in, but felt kind of awkward as the lonely counter workers stared holes into my chest. Just like the Helmet album, Meantime; it was great the first few time you heard it, but that asshole down the hall kept playing ”Unsung” over and over until you hated the damn thing and just wanted to toss the guy out the window. Go to hell, Jarred. [MF]
32 W 39th St.
212/719-4044
subway.com
