Sub-Par

So they finally got rid of that terrible Hogi Yogi. Thank God.  I've never been angrier at a sandwich in my life.  Whenever I ate at Hogi Yogi, I felt like I had been insulted on a personal level, as though the sandwich somehow offended my grandmother's honor.  That is the level of disgusting we were forced to deal with for far too long here at UVU, and an injustice that will hopefully be righted by an actual sandwich store, Subway.  I decided to try it out, as many others already have, though I felt this Subway had more to live up to than it's standalone brethren, as this newcomer also needed to heal the deep wounds inflicted by its evil predecessor.  Can these sandwiches stand up and overcome the brutal sandwich history that we've had to suffer through all these years?

NO. No they could not.  I've tasted disappointment many times in my life, but never quite this literally.  This is basically Hogi Yogi with a new paint job and charging two bucks more for everything.  These must be the sandwiches Satan serves in hell's cafeteria, probably on mystery meat mondays, or "Why doesn't this taste like anything good?" Wednesdays.  I ordered a meatball sub, literally the second hardest sandwich to screw up, next to peanut butter and jelly, and they still managed to blow it.  They were warming the meatballs on the coffee maker for God's sake!  If your coffee is already terrible, what makes you think that preparing any other food the same way would yield different results?  Not only did it taste bad, now it also tasted stupid and counter-intuitive, which I'm surprised they don't charge extra for.  I bit into the sandwich and, surprise surprise, it was colder than a pimp's heart, and twice as slimy.  I had to hold back tears and vomit as the disgusting lump of cold beef and tomato sauce weaseled it's way down my throat.   This was probably the worst day of my life.  I spoke several audible swear words as I trudged through the failure on a bun, and passers-by looked at me questioningly, wondering what could possibly anger a person so much about a sandwich.  But this is no sandwich my friends; this goes against everything good and decent in this world.  This spits in the face of a beautiful tradition of delicious meatball subs.  Subway stepped in when we needed it most, when we needed hope after years of sandwich tyranny, and it proceeded to re-open the old scars left by Hogi Yogi, and poured salt, cracked pepper, and parmesan cheese into the wounds.  Don't eat here unless you like the taste of cold betrayal on stale asiago cheddar bread.  Et tu, Subway?