JT the Bigga Figga leans his long, arching back against the wall and stretches his slender legs across the narrow passageway in front of Luv n' Haight's sandwich counter. Decked head-to-toe in Desert Storm-era camouflage and bobbing his head to an anxious, inaudible rhythm, he practically dares the sandwich shop's customers to cross his path. He barks out his order to the busy attendant: "Turkey sandwich, no Brussels sprouts or... More >>>