I go through fazes with fast food. Sometimes I eat it way too often. Sometimes I don't eat it for months on end. I see each restaurant on a continuum, ranging from the healthiest options on one end to the worst options on the other. McDonald's, for me, is the absolute worst. Not only is it horrible for you, but I hate both the taste and the smell. I distinctly remember the last time I ate at McDonald's. It was in the summer of 1995 and I was in Salem, Oregon. I had a large order of fries and a Diet Coke.

Subway, on the other hand, is my gateway drug. I can go to Subway with the intention of getting a six-inch veggie sandwich, only to walk out with a footlong meatball sub with olives, onions, and extra cheese, which is pretty much the same thing as eating half a pizza.

What I'm driving at is that I go to Subway a lot. And every single time I go there, I come out with a story. I've shared some of them here before. Here are a few more.

Worst Sandwich Ever
The worst sandwich I've ever seen someone order at Subway was a six-inch cold-cut combo on white bread with iceberg lettuce and mayonnaise, with the cold cuts heated up in the microwave.

A very old woman ordered this, and I believe that the microwave part happened because she thought she should have it heated up so as to get her money's worth, yet felt like having the whole sandwich toasted was just too much trouble for the sandwich artists. The life-lesson here is that when you combine Midwestern stinginess with Minnesota nice, you end up eating a nuked bologna sandwich with lettuce.

Die! Die! Die!
There's always someone annoying in front of me at Subway. This is one of life's constants. Once I had five people ahead of me and waited for about 15 minutes. When the woman directly in front of me stepped up for her turn, she said, "Hm. Now let's see ... what do I want ... ?"

Then there was the 30ish woman who spent her whole turn preemptively screeching at her amazingly well-behaved children and silent husband because, well, that's what you're supposed to do in her world I guess. "OK, you can go get a bag of chips ... JUST ONE BAG OF CHIPS, SKYLER! ONE BAG! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! TOM, GET OVER THERE AND MAKE SURE SHE JUST TAKES ONE BAG! JESUS, TOM, ARE YOU DEAF?"

Most recently, the woman in front of me ordered three or four footlong subs (these people always do) and went into great detail about which veggies she wanted on each of them, then realized she had it all wrong and made the worker take off the veggies and start over. The worst part was that she said the word "jalapeños" about 15 times, but pronounced it "hallapeenos." I wanted to smother her to death with an Italian BMT (which incidentally does not stand for "bacon, meat, and tomatoes").

Utter Confusion
One of Subways strengths in my mind is also the thing that strikes terror into the hearts of many of its patrons: the variety of choices. I've seen so many people stop stone solid in fear when given the power to choose their own toppings.

"Well, what's supposed to go on it?" they always ask. The person behind the counter then explains that they can have whatever they want. This is when the real paralysis sets in. "Uh ... um ... lettuce and tomatoes I guess," they say, falling back onto standard Whopper-toppings, a relative comfort zone. Maybe next time they'll go for something crazy like pickles. Maybe.

Side note: I never get lettuce on my subs, which is apparently rare, because no matter which Subway I go to, and no matter who's working, they always ask about the veggies with their gloved hand already buried in the lettuce. But I don't want any, dude! I'm a Subway expert!

Maybe every business is like this. I don't know, whatever. I'm sure good things do happen at Subway. Hell, I met my girlfriend at Subway. But I just think that it's one of those places that attracts the weird.

It's damn good fast food, though. Damn good.