The old guy in front of us at the sub shop had his wife on a cell phone. He would read a bit of the menu, and then stop talking for a bit, and then ask if they had this or that, and in this fashion he eventually ordered two sandwiches, one for him, one for his wife.

He turned around and explained that she was laid up in bed because she was cut from here to here. Some kind of common procedure old folks get, I can't remember.

Then he pulls two Subway tickets out of his wallet. "Y'see this?" he says, "They changed the color of the tickets at Subway. Said they wouldn't accept the old kind anymore for the free six-inch. I told 'em I wouldn't ever go back. That's why I'm here."

We nodded sympathetically.

"I don't know if you know any Germans, but they're very stubborn. Have you ever met a German? If you haven't, well, you have now."

I chuckled. I love old guys.

"If you ask me, we shoulda hit the beach on D-Day and not stopped until we'd killed every last one of 'em."