"Huh? What is South Pause?"
"You know, South Paws!...You've never heard of a Southpaw? Left-handed...we're both left handed."
"Oh.", as I made a mental note for writing my future book, What White People Know Which My Immigrant Parents Didn't Teach Me. I'll add this after my chapter about What You Should Say You Had for Dinner Last Night.
So when I walked into Southpaws for a sandwich, I at least knew what the name meant. Yeah...I'm bad. You know it. Then, into a sea of lunch clientele, I walked. (I just turned into Yoda...after being Michael Jackson...let me undo that).
There were lots of options. Some for the traditionalist, like a club sandwich, and some for the adventurous. A veggie sandwich. There were other veggie options as well: 3 or 4 PB&Js, 3-4 Grilled Cheese, a make your own, a Chef's choice (which is both scary and exciting to put the fate of your sandwich into someone's spontaneity). I just kept it simple. Let's see if their Veggie is just a shredded iceberg lettucehead embraced by bread.
I liked the Veggie Sandwich and have since been loyal to the Veggie. I haven't had a need to go beyond that, although, it's nice to know I can. And I do love the fruit sides...not a sorry melon fruit cup but real, manly, fruit sides, like oranges wedges and watermelon cut into perfect isoceles. But it's not just the sandwich and fresh fruit that keep me coming back. Southpaws is a scene. Move out of the way, online dating, Southpaws at Preston Center is climbing up on top. The place is energized by a diligent staff of active, mid to late 20-something bachelors. And what's not hot about a guy making me a sandwich? "get in the kitchen and make me some sandwich, boa'!"
|Veggie on Marble Rye|
The place is already bumpin' and rockin' at 8 am from their signature organic energy smoothies and expansive breakfast menu. And you can order things like a Soopaman. The bodies behind the counter reel in the cougars and the single ladies by the handfuls. I watched one attractive woman walk by wearing an interesting interpretation of winter attire. With barren arms while wearing Uggs, I questioned if we might expect to witness a volleyball game in the snow. But then I realized, she's not dressed for winter--she's dressed for Marcus, one of the hearththrobs of this Southpaw location. I look down and thank my wedding ring for saving me from embarrassment, which at one time I could have easily subjected myself to. Thank you, Lord, for bringing me to Southpaws as a married woman who knows what a Southpaw is. I can eat my sandwich shamelessly.