Speaker 1: Previously on Miller High Life Presents The Heavyweight Diaries. We
Speaker 1: have a season premiere wrap part Timothy Nelson. Roast beef, cheese, slaw,
Speaker 1: ham salae, hate in tuna, milk, hate everything about chicken salad,
Speaker 1: grilled chicken salad. You've not been recording, cactus. If today's
Speaker 1: reporting trip had any chance of success, I would need
Speaker 1: to do something no sane man has ever done. Rely
Speaker 1: on Timothy Nelson for etiquette advice. What does one wear
Speaker 1: to a subway sandwitchery? I ask? Are shoes and shirts permitted?
Speaker 1: There isn't a dress code, says Nelson. All dining has
Speaker 1: a dress code. I say, torriodor pants for tappas, leather
Speaker 1: vests for cutlets, and a tuxedo with an American flag
Speaker 1: cumber bun. When in bibing Miller Highlight, dress as you
Speaker 1: would for eating a sandwich. Nelson says, a white woolen
Speaker 1: bib it is. I say. Nelson picks me up at dawn.
Speaker 1: Because I am filled with desperate energy and several root
Speaker 1: beer snapses, I fail to notice that my bib is
Speaker 1: stuck in the passenger door. Seeing me grow hysterical, Nelson
Speaker 1: continues driving at a sensible speed for several miles. It
Speaker 1: is only when I grow hystericaler and finally hystericalist, that
Speaker 1: he pulls to the curb so I can yank my
Speaker 1: bib inside to safety. Why are you wearing a cape,
Speaker 1: asks Timothy Nelson. What I am wearing, I correct, is
Speaker 1: a backwards versable white woolen bibb. And are you familiar
Speaker 1: with the Henry Heimich maneuver? Because I'm considering ordering the
Speaker 1: whitefish outside the subway sandwich. We go over a checklist
Speaker 1: of our recording equipment. In the process, we learn that
Speaker 1: professional radio producer Timothy Nelson has forgotten to pack any batteries.
Speaker 1: After a good ten minutes, in which we volly blame
Speaker 1: to and fro, Nelson and I drive to a hardware
Speaker 1: store and purchase an extension cable to connect the recorder
Speaker 1: to the lighter in his van. It's only as we
Speaker 1: finish unraveling the several hundred feet of bright orange extension
Speaker 1: cord that it occurs to Nelson and I though we
Speaker 1: might better have used our visit to the hardware store
Speaker 1: to purchase batteries. How foolish, Timothy Nelson snorts, you must be, sir,
Speaker 1: and to include this detail. And you're telling I will
Speaker 1: tell it as it needs to be told, I tell him.
Speaker 1: Timothy Nelson's deluge of suggestions peak when he suggests that
Speaker 1: since the process leading up to the first episode has
Speaker 1: been so interesting, I should put out many episodes, one
Speaker 1: per week, detailing the experience. That is a spectacularly terrible idea.
Speaker 1: I snap that will alienate our audience with frivolities and
Speaker 1: have them hitting the unsubscribed button in hordes. But in
Speaker 1: the ensuing silence, I secretly make a mental note to
Speaker 1: reconsider the idea. We arrive at the restaurant well passed
Speaker 1: lunch hour. I am famished bursting through the door, microphone
Speaker 1: extended like a divining rod, Timothy Nelson and steps on
Speaker 1: my bib, causing me to fall onto my backside. Gazing
Speaker 1: up from the ground, extension corps tangled about my waist, legs,
Speaker 1: neck and bib, I see a fluorescent menu wall. There
Speaker 1: is something called a meat ball sub If the photograph
Speaker 1: is to be trusted, This culinary miracle is constructed by
Speaker 1: rolling meat into small balls and placing them, like happy
Speaker 1: little sailors inside a submarine made of bread, Tugging on
Speaker 1: his pant leg I tell Timothy Nelson that I would
Speaker 1: like to try the meat ball. Don't tell me, he says,
Speaker 1: tell the subway sandwich artist, Ahi, yes, I tell him,
Speaker 1: with all the sarcasm I can muster. I shall immediately
Speaker 1: inform the Jatta of Gyros, the Picasso of poe boys,
Speaker 1: the Mireau of heroes rising off my fanny, or, for
Speaker 1: those listening in Great Britain, my batoxes. I catch the
Speaker 1: eye of the uniform teenaged counterman. What can I get
Speaker 1: you guys started with today? He asks, with a snap
Speaker 1: of what appears to be hospital gloves. I would like
Speaker 1: a meat ball, submarine sandwich, I say, absolutely, says the counterman.
Speaker 1: And what kind of bread would you like? I always
Speaker 1: have the Italian, says Nelson. Oh really, I say, rising
Speaker 1: to my feet and casually adjusting my white woolen floor
Speaker 1: length bib from which part of Italy? Is it a
Speaker 1: pia dina for Romagna ooh? Or a Tuscan chiaciata. Don't
Speaker 1: tell me it's one of those panae caffones they make
Speaker 1: in Campagna. Because no, thanks, You're embarrassing me, says Timothy Nelson. Oh,
Speaker 1: you can't stand to see me have a good time.
Speaker 1: I say, we are here on assignment. Nelson says, fine.
Speaker 1: I say, watch how a real journalist operates, say, I say,
Speaker 1: rising onto tippy toes and straining my recorder over the
Speaker 1: counter so that the spongy tip of my microphone grazes
Speaker 1: the counterman's lips. There was a sandwich my friend here
Speaker 1: ordered that was well, it was the wrong sandwich. And
Speaker 1: we were wondering, that is, my friend and I were
Speaker 1: wondering if you might know who might have prepared his sandwich. Hm,
Speaker 1: says the counterman, a pubescent crack in his voice. Do
Speaker 1: you know when you visited? I can check the schedule?
Speaker 1: April the fourth, says Timothy Nelson with alacrity. Supper hour.
Speaker 1: I remember because it was my Lady and Eyes tenth anniversary.
Speaker 1: As the hallmark jangle of hollinoates wafts out of the
Speaker 1: ceiling speakers, I stare at Timothy Nelson in horror. Makes sense.
Speaker 1: Something went wrong with the orders, says the oily knock
Speaker 1: kneed counterman. April fourth, Dinner time is Perry shift? Perry,
Speaker 1: I ask, my dumbass brother, He snarls, pushing my microphone
Speaker 1: ever closer so that the saliva saturated nub is pressed
Speaker 1: firmly against his teeth. I press on. Sounds like you
Speaker 1: and your brother Perry have issues. Uh yeah, he says, Dude,
Speaker 1: the two of us haven't spoken in months, months, I repeat,
Speaker 1: with a mix of curiosity, greed, and desperation. And that
Speaker 1: can get super awkward, he continues, since we sometimes work
Speaker 1: the same shift. Straining up onto the nails of my
Speaker 1: tippy toes, I navigate the mic into the counterman's mouth,
Speaker 1: careful not to activate his gag reflex, but equally careful
Speaker 1: to capture each delicious narrative droplet of wet emotion. Interesting,
Speaker 1: I say, barely managing to contain my ecstasy. How did
Speaker 1: the bad blood begin? Perry stole my girlfriend, he says.
Speaker 1: And worst of all, she sits around here all day
Speaker 1: scarfing hot peppers and mayo and making googly eyes at
Speaker 1: him during his shift. Well, that sounds like the kind
Speaker 1: of problem that's unique to you, but that lots of
Speaker 1: people could relate to. At the same time, I tell him,
Speaker 1: like the kind of thing you've been putting off but
Speaker 1: you want to address, possibly through the use of a
Speaker 1: third party interlocutor. Uh, I don't know what you're talking
Speaker 1: about Stammers, the Sandwich artist of sadness. But uh okay,
Speaker 1: As Holland oates harmonize, I lock eyes with my co
Speaker 1: reporter Timothy. I say, I have work to do here,
Speaker 1: real work, and also I never want to see you
Speaker 1: for as long as I live. Well see me you shall,
Speaker 1: as I'm currently stationed in your office at the union desk,
Speaker 1: he says, for once in his woe begotten life. Timothy
Speaker 1: Nelson is right. But I'd worry about that sometime in
Speaker 1: the future, because for now I was a beautiful bumblebee
Speaker 1: happily rolling around in the sweet nectar of storytelling. The
Speaker 1: Heavyweight season had been saved. This has been the final
Speaker 1: chapter of the Heavyweight Diaries. The new season of Heavyweight
Speaker 1: will begin in one week on September twenty sixth. Remember
Speaker 1: the best place to listen to Heavyweight is on Spotify.
Speaker 1: The second best place to listen to Heavyweight is in
Speaker 1: the emotional echo chamber of Your beautiful Beating Heart. Heavyweight
Speaker 1: is me Jonathan Goldstein along with Jorgeos, Stevie Lane, Khalila Holt,
Speaker 1: and Ba Parker. This episode was mixed by the wonderful
Speaker 1: Emma Monger. Music by Bobby Lord. Our ad music is
Speaker 1: Vivaldi Spring, performed by the Wichita State University Chamber Players.
Speaker 1: See you next week for season four.