At a family restaurant in Ohio, the waitress asked if I wanted soup or salad. I heard super salad. I did not know what made it super. But a man does not refuse the strongest option on the table. The super one, I said. Linda wrote it down without blinking and yelled toward the window. ONE SUPER SALAD! The cook leaned out. HOW SUPER, LINDA? HE DIDN'T SAY. GO ALL THE WAY. It came in a steel mixing bowl. Croutons like boulders. Two eggs. A whole breadstick planted in the middle like a flag. It should have cost eight dollars more than the soup. Linda charged me for the soup. There is a new line on the specials board now. SUPER SALAD. ASK LINDA.