Monday, May 23, 2005
Earl of Manwich
Today, Louis and I had a mission: he had read in Attitude that there was a gay sandwich shop somewhere in Aberdeen and we were determined to find it. I don’t know how a sandwich shop can be gay. Maybe they only serve sandwiches with salami in them. We just had to find out.
Louis didn’t have an actual copy of the magazine which might have helped us find out where it was located, but he remembered it was on Market Street somewhere. So that’s where we started looking. Market Street is pretty unremarkable sandwich shop-wise. The only specifically sandwich-oriented shop was a hole-in-the-wall called “The Earl of Sandwich.” Since there didn’t appear to be room for a dance floor inside, we figured it wasn’t possible it was what we were looking for.
We continued down Market Street keeping a sharp eye out for such colors as purple or pink. Each pub we passed, we peered inside looking for drag queens or leather daddies enjoying the best gay sandwiches in Aberdeen. But we had no luck. So we continued past the docks into a more industrial part of town. We were still hopeful because, after all, we all know that sailors love a bit of cock now and then. At least, this is something I’ve alwaysprayed for believed.
Our search turned desperate as we began asking randoms on the street if they knew of any gay sandwich shops in the area. None of them did. We were forced to conclude that we had gone too far and passed it already.
We ended up giving the Earl of Sandwich a second chance. After all, as we noticed this time around, the guy working there was wearing a bright pink shirt.
“Do you have any sandwiches you would describe as...gay?” I thought it would be best to be as direct as possible. “What do you think is the gayest sandwich you have?”
To his credit, the guy didn’t seem fazed at all. “Well, there’s a lesbian who comes in here a lot, and she always orders one with salami on it. Funnily enough.”
“Are you aware that this establishment is listed in Attitude magazine as gay? You’re running a gay sandwich shop here, is that right?”
“I didn’t know that. We do have a lot of lesbians coming in here, though. Maybe we are gay.”
“Do you realize you’re wearing a pink shirt? Don’t you think that’s a little gay?”
He didn’t. But it was.
Louis and I talked to him for a little while as he made our gay sandwiches. I decided I would have whatever the lesbian was having. The guy had a question for us gays: “So, what’s the male equivalent of a faghag?”
Um...a fag?
“No, I mean I have a lot of lesbian friends. Like, A LOT. Do you know if there’s a name for someone like me?”
Though we failed in solving this man’s identity crisis, the sandwiches were yummy, and “coincidentally” quite phallic. They tasted pretty gay to me. The Earl of Sandwich was not the replacement for Oh Henry’s Louis and I were hoping for, but at least we know where all the lesbians in Aberdeen are getting their sandwiches.
Louis didn’t have an actual copy of the magazine which might have helped us find out where it was located, but he remembered it was on Market Street somewhere. So that’s where we started looking. Market Street is pretty unremarkable sandwich shop-wise. The only specifically sandwich-oriented shop was a hole-in-the-wall called “The Earl of Sandwich.” Since there didn’t appear to be room for a dance floor inside, we figured it wasn’t possible it was what we were looking for.
We continued down Market Street keeping a sharp eye out for such colors as purple or pink. Each pub we passed, we peered inside looking for drag queens or leather daddies enjoying the best gay sandwiches in Aberdeen. But we had no luck. So we continued past the docks into a more industrial part of town. We were still hopeful because, after all, we all know that sailors love a bit of cock now and then. At least, this is something I’ve always
Our search turned desperate as we began asking randoms on the street if they knew of any gay sandwich shops in the area. None of them did. We were forced to conclude that we had gone too far and passed it already.
We ended up giving the Earl of Sandwich a second chance. After all, as we noticed this time around, the guy working there was wearing a bright pink shirt.
“Do you have any sandwiches you would describe as...gay?” I thought it would be best to be as direct as possible. “What do you think is the gayest sandwich you have?”
To his credit, the guy didn’t seem fazed at all. “Well, there’s a lesbian who comes in here a lot, and she always orders one with salami on it. Funnily enough.”
“Are you aware that this establishment is listed in Attitude magazine as gay? You’re running a gay sandwich shop here, is that right?”
“I didn’t know that. We do have a lot of lesbians coming in here, though. Maybe we are gay.”
“Do you realize you’re wearing a pink shirt? Don’t you think that’s a little gay?”
He didn’t. But it was.
Louis and I talked to him for a little while as he made our gay sandwiches. I decided I would have whatever the lesbian was having. The guy had a question for us gays: “So, what’s the male equivalent of a faghag?”
Um...a fag?
“No, I mean I have a lot of lesbian friends. Like, A LOT. Do you know if there’s a name for someone like me?”
Though we failed in solving this man’s identity crisis, the sandwiches were yummy, and “coincidentally” quite phallic. They tasted pretty gay to me. The Earl of Sandwich was not the replacement for Oh Henry’s Louis and I were hoping for, but at least we know where all the lesbians in Aberdeen are getting their sandwiches.
