Working at Subway for the second summer in a row, I have noticed that people are very lenient on what they consider a “sandwich.” The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines a sandwich as “two pieces of bread with something (such as meat, peanut butter, etc.) between them." At Subway, we cut our bread close to the other side, leaving a small amount of bread to keep the bottom and the top connected. This is still one singular piece of bread, but it is considered a sandwich. I have accepted this.
Recently, a coworker was cashing out a customer, and asked what type of sandwich I was making (different prices for different meats of course). I was making a wrap. I jokingly corrected her. She went on to call the wrap a sandwich. Perhaps this is because Subway primarily serves “sandwiches,” and she is possibly used to calling everything a sandwich. Words change very often, some overnight, but this mistake is difficult for me to accept. A wrap, to me, is a wrap. One wouldn't call a taco a sandwich.
Oh wait. I am wrong about that. Over the last year, I have ordered a few tacos from Taco Bell—a late night snack after hours of studying. I ordered a Cheesy Gordita Crunch, which is a soft taco inside of a hard taco. After ordering this, the cashier asked, “Just the sandwich?” I did not even know what to say. My heart was broken. I contemplated life in this moment. What is a sandwich? Is everything edible now a sandwich? I never thought I would be completely heartbroken and speechless inside of my favorite Mexican-American restaurant, but like words, feelings can also change.
This is where it gets weird. Imagine attending a barbeque. Perhaps you tell the person at the grill that you would like a hot dog. A hot dog... is that not meat inside of a bun? Just like at Subway. We call that a sandwich here. Is a hot dog a sandwich now? This may shatter your world, but with these credentials, it is looking pretty promising that a hot dog is, in fact, a sandwich. Perhaps the public “outcry” of a hot dog being a sandwich is just a meme (an idea, behavior, style, or usage that spreads from person to person within a culture (also from Merriam-Webster)) which points out that it technically fits under some criteria, but I refuse to believe that there are people out there who believe that it is a sandwich. Merriam-Webster itself even declared a hot dog a sandwich!
Recently, on Jimmy Kimmel Live, the host announced that, if he were elected Vice President, he would not allow a hot dog to be a sandwich. “That's [Merriam-Webster's] definition. By my definition, a hot dog is a hot dog. It's its own thing with its own specialized bun. If you went into a restaurant, and you ordered a meat-tube sandwich, would that make sense? No! They'd probably call the cops on you...If hot dogs are sandwiches, then cereal is soup.”
I am 100% on Kimmel's side with this one. Once we group together too many things, we begin to lose words. What was once a submarine sandwich is now just a sandwich. As an American, I feel as though I must stand by the hot dog being a hot dog and nothing else. What happens when we lose the integrity of a hot dog? All we would have left is baseball and apple pie. But wait, isn't apple pie filling between two pieces of something very bread-like? Is pie now a sandwich? I honestly do not know what to believe anymore.
I am very split between these two ideas, even though it feels natural to be against the argument. I am an English major. I have learned that words and definitions change. I have learned that language change is not a bad thing. I could make the argument that fried chicken itself is a sandwich because it is chicken enclosed in breading. I do not know anymore. I must accept this dystopian future of everything being a sandwich.
