Tom's Favorite Sandwich: "Does the egg sandy at egg slut count, i dont know if its the sandwich or the proximity to G&B."

Tom moved to Los Angeles from New York 12 years ago, which basically makes him an LA native as far as longevity is concerned. But Tom is a New Yorker at heart and by habit and by occasional bouts of public cursing.

At first, a timid newbie to the sprawling geography of LA, he drove everywhere like the rest of us- isolated in a metal box on wheels, lurching down the sluggish roads, blinded by red lights, wondering why he's spending so much of his time looking for parking. His instinct begged him to utilize LA’s public transit system instead, but a bombardment of negative sentiments from colleagues urged him otherwise. “It’s scary, sketchy, and you will get murdered,” he recounts them saying. However, his New York grit and sensibility overpowered those terrifying warnings. “I went on it one day, and it was a breeze. It’s just a subway,” he shrugged, and I listened. I learned.

Now, Tom navigates LA by way of everything. He takes the metro. He gets on the bus. He uses LA’s shared bicycles. He even walks. A LOT. Like, sometimes you can find him on a stroll from La Brea to Fairfax to get a donut and coffee from Bob’s at The Original Farmer’s Market (that’s 2 whole miles!!!). Tom Mankowski is a hero.

Tom loves LA, but often misses New York and his family. To soothe those yearnings, he embraces LA's reminders of home: tattered metro seats, crossing the street, rubbing elbows with other humans while going to and fro, dining at loud eateries, savoring chewy bread products, and yes, coffee talk. Gosh golly, where does Tom find these things?

Well, made blatantly obvious by the title of this story, please join him and the Great Sandwich Project of 2017 as we head to Grand Central Market via the public wheels for Egg Slut and G&B Coffee.

We begin in Culver City on the Expo Line. Newly installed, it connects people from the west to people from the east. The long awaited route has alleviated a cross-town commute and made LA's east/west long distance relationships sustainable. It's simply glorious...if people actually used it.

The ride is smooth and without fear or threat of being murdered. Tom even sneaks in a nap. Nighnigh, Thomas. But as we approach Downtown, we are alerted that a bus transfer is required due to maintenance. Tom suggests taking the shared bikes, I suggest we Lyft. We both agree on the bus. 

We finally arrive at Grand Central Market and bet on how long the notoriously-excruciating line would be at Egg Slut. I said "too long" and he said "just right." The guy in front of him was just happy to be there.

I make Tom wait for his "favorite sandwich" and peruse the market. I soak in the reminiscent sounds and smells that he loves dearly but was missing from the back of the line. I even peek at what the front of the line looks like, and capture photos of all of it for him to see later.

Tom is allergic to dairy, so I take a picture of McConnell's ice cream cones without ice cream (he thanked me for the kind thought). I'm a good friend.

But then I return to Tom and, to my (non) surprise, found he had barely moved. 

Desperately hungry, we agree to skip Egg Slut and enjoy nourishment at G&B Coffee, courtesy of Tom because he lost the bet.

He then humbly admitts, “Nine out of ten times I don’t get the sandwich. I’ll spend an hour and forty five minutes getting here, but won’t spend that time in line. There’s no scenario where I would wait in that line. I wouldn’t wait that long for star tours. But I guess it's not about the sandwich as much as it is the experience.”

"Tom, do you mean Star Tours at Disneyland or star tours on Hollywood Blvd.," I ask wondering why he would consider an exploration of celebrity homes.

"Star Tours at Disneyland, Danielle," he gives me a very stern New Yorker look. He loves Star Wars. I should've known. I'm a bad friend. 

We sit at the counter and he watches the flow of bipedal traffic shuffle by. We spot Bobby Flay and giggle. Tom orders his favorite (vegan) strawberry muffin and an espresso "sandwich" called Business & Pleasure ($5.25)-a fizzy palette cleanser hinted with turmeric, nestled between a shot and a luscious hazelnut-milk macchiato.  He sips them from left to right, waits for the electric jolt of caffeine to hit him, and gazes off in the distance thinking of home. With awareness of Tom's non-dairy preference, the baristo politely interrupts to offer a sample of oat milk they had concocted. The gesture and the caffeine exciteTom, and we begin talking with him like old chums. The humidity is like a wall, we joke. The muffin is like a pillow, we describe. The coffee is like home, Tom sighs.

He's jittery and can't sit still or ponder any longer. We get up and zip through Grand Central Market, past the sluggish Egg Slut line, through the crowded walkways, and behind an old man in a cowboy a hat who slows us down. A man who has lived a whole life.  Tom smiles and with lightning speed says, "This was the highlight of my week. And that guy is my future. I think I drank too much coffee."