Wi Wove Wou, Wofu Wandwich

I have loved this tofu sandwich for almost fifteen years.  I would eat it everyday if it lived next door.  It doesn't.  It lives at The Good Food Emporium in Halifax.  For this sandwich, I walked across town regularly during my first year or two of university.  I dreamed when I moved away.  I got a parking ticket when I came for a visit.  I pressed my nose against the glass when the restaurant happened to be closed every time I was in town for the next ten years.  I snuck around the Harbour twice last week while on vacation.  And once, several years ago, I made a complete fool of myself. 

It's just that it had been so long.  And the restaurant was finally open.  And I was excited.  I walked right up to the counter, "I would like a tofu sandwich, please."  Only, the server didn't say, "Which bread would you like," or even, "Shall I pack that up for you?"  He said, "Oh, it's Saturday.  We don't serve tofu sandwiches today."  I wasn't quite prepared, you see.  It just slipped out.  Loudly.  "Are you kidding?  I have been trying to eat this sandwich for ten years!"  We were both a little shocked then.  He spoke first, "Just one minute."  When he returned from the kitchen many minutes later, he had good news, and a grin, "He's going to make you a tofu sandwich."  I babbled a little while we waited, "I'm so sorry!  I wasn't intending...I don't usually...I didn't mean to be pushy."  And that guy handed me my sandwich and said, "You were not pushy.  I was pushy on your behalf."  I thanked him.  I tipped him.  And I found a bench with a view on which to eat my lunch.