But that’s just it. We’re supposed to be the city that champions the little guy, and Wawa is the dynasty, the overwhelming favorite. Buying your hoagie from Wawa is like rooting for Apollo Creed, and Apollo ain’t what he used to be. The champ has been slipping. The dynasty has gotten arrogant and sloppy. Years ago, if you ordered a hoagie at a Wawa, its deli workers cut the lunchmeat to order. Now, they reach into the refrigerator for a pre-cut slab of dried-out ham, salami, and provolone. I know what I’m gonna get there, its defenders will say. So what? I’d rather try a local, lesser-known deli or pizzeria and run the risk that it can’t make a decent Italian hoagie (hot peppers, a splash of oil, and no mayo within a mile of it) than accept the flaccid lettuce, the unripe tomatoes, the soggy tuna salad from Wawa. It gets tiresome, relying on the same old, same old out of habit or misplaced loyalty.