The Legend of Suburpia

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There is no pretense walking into the Layton Avenue Suburpia—it’s connected to a rather nice Shell station and right across from the airport. It’s a well-oiled machine and every customer knows their order before walking in—besides me of course. My parents have long talked about their admiration of Suburpia over the years, but I don’t remember ever having it growing up.

While I don’t know the Suburpia menu off-hand, I do know my way around a sandwich shop. I opted for the Suburpia Classic (Italian delight with salami and bologna) and the Miles Standish (delicious turkey—both on fresh baked Italian bread with lettuce, tomato, onion, cheese, mayo and their own special spiced oil.

While these sound like typical sub sandwiches, there is a poster on the wall on how to properly eat theirs. It’s almost like eating a burrito in a sense that the plastic bag is meant to collect all the juices and whatever else might pop out during the eating process. Oh, and what a glorious mess it is. Not only is this method genius for preventing spillage but it also allows you to eat while on the road.

People drive to Suburpia locations from all over. One man came in all the way from Oconomoc and complained about the Waukesha location closing. There is a Wauwatosa location these days, but if you ask any born and bred Milwaukeean, they will likely have an old location they remember fondly, and wish were still open.

These sandwiches are worth the trek, lemme tell ya, but they are meant to be eaten right away. I was the odd ball eating at the counter while everyone else picked up their orders to go. Rita, the woman working the counter, said she’s seen an influx of 20–30-year-olds coming in based on their parents’ recommendations, just like I did.

The double order was fun for the sake of this article, but one is plenty for any person. Even if I’m the last person in Milwaukee to jump on the Suburpia train, I’m happy to now be on it.