The Battle of Long Sandwich

So we went to the 2009 season launch of a local theatre company last night at Government House.
After arriving midway through the speeches, we took up pole position at the back of the room and knuckled down.
Soon after arriving, it became apparent that while the alcohol was free-flowing, there was a severe shortage of finger food.
Then, out of nowhere, a waitress walked to the table I was standing next to and plonked down a full tray of gourmet sandwiches.
I thought all my Christmases had come at once.
I picked up a sandwich and started to congratulate myself on standing in such a fine position for the speeches, until I noticed a shadow over my shoulder.
Another man, who obviously hadn't had the chance to grab dinner before the launch, had seen the opportunity of a platter full of sandwiches and moved nearby.
Then it began.
I'd take one, pause for what I thought was a respectable amount of time, then have another.
My competitor shadowed my every move.
It was almost like an arms race until, before we knew it, there was only one left on the plate.
I glanced at the sandwich, then at the competitor, sizing him up.
He did the same to me.
Then he leaned forward and made some comment about the speeches.
It was a clever move, designed to throw me off guard while he claimed the sandwich for himself.
But in a brilliant counterattack, I swiped the remaining morsel as I leaned towards him to listen to what he had to say.
Turning around, I smugly devoured the sanwich, feeling his cold hard stares on the back of my head.
But it didn't matter.
Victory was mine.