Deli-ghtful
I think if I had an extra hundred bucks, I could have a grand time at the deli counter. The deli counter is a special place---somewhere to marvel at lunch meat, drool at salads and gaze lovingly at chicken wings and stuffed cabbage. It's a place where you call the shots---one of the last places where you can do so. You're in charge at the deli counter. You draw a number and when it's called, it's like you've been given the floor of the U.S. Senate. You don't have to rush. You can filibuster about garlic bologna, pressed corned beef and pimento loaf and dictate how thin or thick it is to be sliced. You can take your time. Nobody is breathing down your neck, for they all have numbers and they'll get their turn, too. The employee behind the counter won't rush you either, because what do they care? They're there to slice meat and dish out salads. They don't care if the person in front of them has a list of 12 items or if 12 people have one i...