Behold, the Turkey Lady.

Disclaimer: While the following is not intended to be insensitive to those with physical deformities, I'd just like to ask/suggest they don't work in the food industry.

What was intended to be a normal Subway lunch break turned out to be nothing short of a psychological trepidation. After a short wait in line, I approached the counter.

SANDWICH ARTIST: What would you like, sir?

ME: I'll have a turkey breast and ham on white please.

SANDWICH ARTIST: Okay, what type of bread would you like?

ME: White.

SANDWICH ARTIST: Alrighty then, what kind of meat would you like, sir?

ME: Turkey breast and ham.

SANDWICH ARTIST: Okay then...

My eyes followed as the overly cheerful sandwich artist slid his masterpiece down the cutting board counter and into the hands of the person manning the veggies department.

VEGGIE DEPARTMENT: What veggies do you want?

The surprising gruff in the woman's voice caused my eyes to travel from her perspiring plastic gloves to what would later haunt my very existence to the core. As my eyes arrived at her mid neckline, I beheld it - the growth.

Now, make no mistake about it, I'm no stranger to goiters, but this was different. If there was a kingdom of goiters, this would be the queen. All peasant goiters would pay homage to her. Burnt offerings and sacrifices of lesser goiters would be performed in her honor. The very flicker of her wrinkles would command goiter armies of tens of thousands to march into and claim neighboring goiter civilizations. Superiority, authority, and dominance, all rolled into one droopy softball-sized miracle of science.

I struggled to maintain my cool.

ME: Umm, I'll have lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles...

Just as I was about to request a light dab of mayo, the goiter moved. Yes, it moved. Bile was determined. I fought with gusto. Staring at the floor I sputtered.

ME: Okay, that'll be good, thanks.

Needless to say, my appetite was completely gone. It was replaced with vivid imagery of goiters in medieval battle armor fighting mightily against armies of boils and other related growths, ala Braveheart.

While the above incident happened hours ago, I'm still quite unsure about anything related to consumption. And while I long to sympathize with the turkey lady, I can't help but desire a method of time travel, so I could go back to before lunch and make the life-altering decision of Panda Express. But no, I am forced to walk this lonely road of incertitude. It is as though my previous world has ceased to exist completely.

I am haunted by goiters.