What’s Wrong With Swapping A Sandwich?

Or, what’s wrong with me?

Mother and Sister are coming to visit this weekend. While I am REALLY looking forward to seeing them, I am dreading the usual “I’m up for anything” and then the outright rejection or passive aggressive “sure, that could be nice” in response to anything I suggest. We can’t do anything that involves money, as there seems to be none these days for any of us, myself included. We can’t do anything that involves walking. We can’t do anything that involves too long a subway ride, because it will be too hot or there will be too many stairs or people, which is fine with me, because why endure a long journey when there are amazing things nearby?

I’ve been frantically searching for something free for us to do. I’ve come up nearly empty handed, which is bizarre given that it is summer and summer in New York City means free entertainment.

Well, there is free entertainment but not the sort of entertainment that will be entertaining to Mother. Understandable. New York City isn't exactly parent-friendly.

Mother is, in fact, easily entertained. She enjoys nothing more than gazing upon her children interacting and enjoying one another’s company. That's awesome. Rather than state that she would prefer to just sit in the apartment and exist, she says “I’ll do whatever everyone else wants to do.”

There’s free classical music on Barge Music this weekend. I thought this would be an excellent use of the afternoon, until it occurred to me that it is Father who likes classical music and that this may not be fun for anyone other than me.

I wanted to find something quirky, something that would only happen in New York City, something that would be new and entertaining to Mother.

You can imagine the thrill I experienced when I came upon a listing for a Sandwich Swap in Prospect Park! You bring a sandwich, cut in half, and submit it to the judges. You keep the other half of your sandwich. You are then given half of someone else’s sandwich. You get to eat portions of two different sandwiches (or more, if you bring more than one), drink beverages, and are given cupcakes! A giant weird picnic in Prospect Park! Perfect!

D and I are enthusiastic. We’ve been talking about our sandwiches – will we be crazy? Will we be gourmet? Will we just bring a peanut butter sandwich? Will we put potato chips in the sandwich? The possibilities (and sandwich-related discussions) are endless.

Sister said “But how will you know if someone has peed in your sandwich?”

I’m sure Mother is thinking the same thing, as she has declared that she’s not into the sandwich party. Sister said “Mom, you can just eat all of yours if you’re worried.”

But this defeats the point.

Visiting New York City and not wanting to do anything defeats the point.

We will most likely end up sitting around in the apartment on a beautiful Saturday afternoon (although there is the threat of rain, which means no sandwiches! no! NO!) while everyone else is frolicking and swapping sandwiches and listening to classical music and reveling in Charlie Parker and sipping drinks on the roof and seeing art and the world. I suppose it's not a bad thing to relax. But being forced to relax by someone other than yourself isn't really realxing.

Why are we so afraid? I'm afraid of things. I'm afraid of too many things. I can't fault anyone for being afraid.

But what’s so scary about sandwiches?