We went to the Deli.

We went to the Deli.
Deli Sandwich
I needed to feel something. Others take drugs, drink alcohol, I eat.
It never occurred to us that at 6 PM the place would be packed, that we’d have to wait.
But it’s a Jewish pilgrimage.
And so different from the rest of Dallas.
In Dallas two things are important… How big is your vehicle and how good do you look in it.
And these people didn’t look good.
Not that they looked bad, well, some did, it’s just that they didn’t put on their look. They didn’t change clothes, they didn’t put on makeup, there was no preparation whatsoever. They were at home watching television and got a hankering for deli and…
Kind of like me. We find ourselves waiting for a table, staring at cakes so big, they could serve as life preservers, assuming they float.
And I knew what I wanted… Pastrami on rye with Swiss cheese and Russian dressing. But I’d forgotten that they specialize in Reubens, so I substituted sauerkraut for cheese and upon closing my menu the bus boy delivered pickles.
Pickles… The pickles were of the green tomato variety, nice and sour, the kind that make you wince with their tartness.
But the ones that had me swooning this evening were…
New pickles.
You know, ones that are barely beyond cucumbers. With just a hint of…
And I bit into that pickle and guest could not help but remark upon the smile that graced my face.
Some things are so right, they connect us to distant memories we thought we’d forgotten, and when we experience them, we can only smile.

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