Stung, stunned and stuffed

Not wanting to ignore "The Best Sandwich in Town," we recently made a lunch stop at the Busy Bee on Walker and 24th. The plan was to take the best sandwiches in town and eat them outside somewhere, preferably with a nice harbor view. But as we watched them make the sandwiches it became apparent that that wasn't going to be possible.

First of all, they are huge. The sandwiches must have weighed in at about two pounds each. But more importantly, they were doused in about a cup of "red sauce" each, and trying to eat them in the car or out on a bench somewhere would have been foolish indeed.

So we took them home, and they were certainly decent sandwiches. I don't know about the best in town. That's quite a bold statement. About halfway through my cheese and red sauce sandwich the table looked like a crime scene. And I probably looked like a starved cannibal shoving fistfuls of gooey, delicious human flesh down my gullet.

We could only eat half of the sandwiches due to their tremendous size. The red sauce soaked the bread to the consistency of wet paper towels, which made them kind of impossible to save as leftovers, so we had to jettison a pound or two of perfectly good eats just to retain our mobility and sanity. And those were the regular sandwiches. I pity the fool who opts for Busy Bee's "Belly Buster." The mind boggles.

So yeah, there's my review. Busy Bee sandwiches require a bib and a half dozen moist towlettes for cleanup. But it did get us thinking that we should put up our own "Best in Town" sign on the side of the house. Like, "Best Family in Town!" or "Best dogs in Town!" No one could argue. If they questioned us we'd just say, "Yeah, Random Lengths gave us the award. What can we say?"