We’ve all seen it before. You’re watching television, and the commercial comes on. Normally, you switch channels and look for something else to watch, like fishing or “Antiques Road Show,” but not this time. Not when a man of such grace, such power and a man with such an amazing story appears on the screen to tell you about a sandwich shop called Subway. Jared, the Subway spokesman for the past few years, landed the lead in most of their commercials after losing hundreds of pounds by eating all Subway, all the time. Immediately, I idolized this slender advertising tool. He told America about how he lost the weight, and that more importantly, that Subway has “seven sandwiches with six grams of fat or less” and that “buying all new clothes was really expensive.” So when the opportunity to actually meet Jared arose, there was no question in my mind what had to be done. “Jared at the J” was a promotion at my neighborhood’s Jewish Community Center for the grand opening of the first Kosher Subway in America. That statement right there should answer your questions as to whether or not my Cleveland neighborhood has a large Jewish population. In case you can’t guess, it does. So much so that Subway opened a special location just for Jews. And what better famous Jew would come to open a Jewish Subway than Subway’s famous Jewish spokesman? Jared was coming to Cleveland. It would be glorious, it would be majestic, and it would be from 10-11 a.m. on a Wednesday morning. Obviously, I couldn’t just walk into the Kosher Subway and shake hands with Jared. No, that wouldn’t be enough. So my brother and I rounded up a few cousins and devised a plan. After at least, oh maybe 10 minutes of scheming, we were ready for the big day. I awoke early on Wednesday, the day I would finally meet Jared. Sleepily, I drove over to my cousins’ house with my brother, Ex-President Dan ’05. When we arrived, my brother, my two cousins, and I removed our shirts, and began to paint. On our bare chests, we painted J-A-R-E-D. On our backs, R-U-L-E-S. The colors? Subway green and Subway yellow, of course. I listened to numerous remarks about my pasty complexion while the five of us stood in the morning sun to let the paint dry. We then put our shirts back on (the neighbors cheered) and drove to the Jewish Community Center. We arrived on time to be sure to find a parking spot because we expected hundreds, if not thousands of Subway fanatics would be coming to see Jared. When we walked into the Subway at the Jewish Community Center, there were about fifteen people standing around (all over the age of 65) eating Subway at 10 o’clock in the morning. They were all ignoring the celebrity in the corner of the room. Even two photographers from the local newspapers didn’t seem too interested in “Jared at the J.” Not to fear, the Adler boys had arrived, and they were about to do what they had feared most in life: remove their shirts in public. The five of us tore our shirts off and screamed “JARED!” and lined up in front of the Subway icon, and then cried “RULES!” as we turned around, showing our backs. We all flexed and high fived Jared. He chuckled with a laugh as sweet as an angel’s. The photographer’s sprung to life and began snapping photos for the Cleveland Jewish News. Soon, we were having a conversation with the legend himself. Jared’s favorite sandwich: Tuscan Chicken. And we even confirmed the rumors that Jared had a cousin that attended Andover! He did! Jared’s cousin on our very campus. It was easily the greatest day of my life. On the car ride home, my brother fell fast asleep with a smile on his face. It would’ve been a perfect end to a perfect day, but he was driving.
