I don’t know what I was expecting to find at that Center City Wawa just about half past twelve. Besides cheap hoagies, of course. And a sixty-four-ounce Turkey Hill peach tea. I dunno, maybe I’d try to steal a bag of Lay’s Salt & Vinegar as well.
But what I didn’t expect was you. What can I say? It was like freakin’ fireworks, you know?
There we stood at the deli counter. Two star-crossed meat lovers, with nothing to look forward to but our number being called and a Septa bus ride to nowhere. We made eyes at each other and giggled as we both tried to get double capicola ham without paying for it. I smiled as you threatened to stab a guy for wearing a Cowboys hat.
For some, Wawa’s Hoagiefest is just a marketing ploy offering cheap sandwiches at participating locations for four weeks in July.
But if you ask me, there’s something about Hoagiefest that is magical. It’s so much more than just food. It’s the faint smell of mayo in the air. The sloshing of eight or so lagers in your gut. Those warm summer nights where a drag of an unfiltered Pall Mall fills every fiber of your being with hope and tar.
