I met up with my buddy Jon Bander, a fellow comedian and my favorite person in the world to improv with, because he swore by this sandwich shop, Defonte’s Of Brookyln (not in Brooklyn).  Bander is responsible for introducing me to Bahn Mi Vietnamese sandwiches. So when this man talks sandwich, I listen.

“Get the #34,” he tells me. Hot roast pork, melted swiss, fried eggplant and spicy pepper salad.

I imagine that combo right away. I imagine the crispy fried eggplant and gooey swiss blending together. That’s a real winner to start. Then throw in some hot meat and veggie based spice to counteract the sweet eggplant and cheese, and you’ve got a satisfyingly complex sandwich balance happening.

By the way, I’m obsessed with sandwiches.

I have some radical theories about sandwiches, which, if you’re ready to weep uncontrollably from glimpsing a higher truth, I will share with you.

Since the dawn of modern civilization man has yearned to put stuff he likes on bread. From the ryes and sourdoughs of the hinterlands to the pitas and crackers of the desserts, from the steamed buns of the east to the corn breads and tortillas of the west- Modern man has found both physical and spiritual nourishment in connecting the things he likes into one easy to eat handful.

I found this out first hand when last summer Pally & Doug and I got hooked on playing this improv warm-up game that Billy Merritt created called “MAKE THAT SANDWICH.” The game is you pick a person that you’re making a pretend sandwich for. Everyone else in the group takes turns adding an ingredient to the sandwich. When someone feels like the sandwich is perfect and adding anything more would only ruin it you say “Make that sandwich,” and then the person you’re making it for has to decide if they would or wouldn’t eat this pretend-sandwich.

As it turns out, EVERYONE likes imagining sandwiches, so when I introduced the game to some of my other non-comedy world friends it was an instant smash. Pretty soon everyone I knew was playing “Make-That-Sandwich.” We were playing it in elevators, bars, subways. We were playing it at parties in circles of up to 20 people. We were playing it restaurants before, during and after ACTUAL meals. Strangers and tourists would enthusiastically join in wherever we started it up.  We’d walk into bars, girls would bite their lower lips and say “Who are those guys who know so much about sandwiches?” And then they’d sleep with us!

Someone came up with the rule that if you decide to eat the pretend sandwich you have to name that sandwich!

“French Onion Reuburt!”

“Blintzkreig!”

“The Oligarch’s Dilemma!”

Some people started shouting “MAKE THAT SANDWICH!” and slamming their hands down on the table as if it were a game show buzzer. I imagine it was like those first heady days of Wheel Of Fortune, when Sajack and Vanna were so in love it hurt, and they were just spinning the wheel cause it felt good, not cause anyone expected them to.

But I think we found something bigger than that. We’d found the secret to human connection.

NYC, for all I love it, can be harsh. It’s ostracizing and brusque. We can feel so disconnected from people. But in reality, all it takes to turn a stranger into a friend is jointly realizing how many more connections we share than differences. And what surer place to start looking for those connections than in the timeless, revered sandwich.

As I ordered my Defonte’s sandwich and pondered what kind of sandwich the Chinese version of me was ordering right now on the other side of the world, my friends Curtis & Annie walked in randomly. Curtis and I have known each other for a long time, but only recently did we become friends. We’re both moving out to LA in a month and we’re both pretty nervous about it. Curtis is moving in with my writing partner, Doug, so I’m excited to hang out with him more once I get there. And Annie I just met a couple weeks ago. She seems really funny. They ordered sandwiches and we talked about them. Now we’ve got connections.

DEFONTE’S OF BROOKLYN: 261 3rd Ave & 21st street. The original IS in Brooklyn in Red Hook- 379 Columbia St between Coles St & Luquer St.