Whenever they get around to making the Travel Hall of Fame, I’m sure passports, rail passes, compasses, roller suitcases and maps will be high on the list of inductees. But there’s one thing, in my mind, that trumps them all: sandwiches. Nothing is a bigger friend to the traveler. A sandwich -- a portable, tidy and easy-to-make sandwich (even my dad could put one together) -- is always there to provide extra pep, as we require nearly four times the energy just to hike a riverside trail or walk a city street than sit in a car or at a computer back home. So it’s time to give sandwiches, the subject of last week’s quiet National Sandwich Day, their due. I grew up on peanut-and-butter, bologna and the grilled-cheese variety, but I only learned how far a sandwich could go when I hit the road. On road trips in the U.S., I grew tired of McDonald’s and opted to stop in small-town grocery store delis, chat up the staff while they made turkey-swiss-mustard-on-rye from scratch. It just felt better. But things really changed in Switzerland, where I discovered it’s perfectly OK to smear chocolate on bread. Pressed for Swiss Francs in the expensive Alps, I’d buy a baguette and use my finger to fill it with Nutella chocolate spread and eat in public parks. Europe, I love you! In Asia, I learned a sandwich could crunch -- and still be delicious. The Vietnamese banh mi fills a baguette with grilled pork and things like pickled leek. Leek? And it works. In fact, banh mi revolution is crossing the U.S. these day (you’ll find no better ones anywhere than Saigon Baguette or Lee’s Sandwiches in the Asian District of Oklahoma City). I was fascinated by small things too, such as the sandwich culture of London, where locals would queue up -- no "lines" in the UK -- and pick-and-point from a stacked array of ready-made odd sandwiches (jellied eel?) behind glass counters. It took seconds, and felt so exotic. In fact, it’s London that we how sandwich its name. Spending evenings at ‘gentleman’s clubs’ in the late 1700s, John Montagu hung around the cribbage board. He loved the game so much, in fact, he’d ask for slices of bread to eat his meats to keep the cards clean from his greasy fingers. The trend caught on, with the snack’s name attached to his title: the 4th Earl of Sandwich. Some argue what a sandwich is. In fact, a few years ago, the notion went to a Worcester, Massachusetts court, where a mall location of Panera Bread believed their ‘sandwich exclusivity rights’ had been ignored when Qdoba Mexican Grill -- serving those sandwich-like burritos -- moved into a nearby spot. The judge laughed it out of court, contending a dictionary definition can tell you a burrito is not a sandwich. I disagree, if you look at a burrito’s intent. Its travel-friendly intent -- as a pack-and-go, picnic MPV, travel-saver. A burrito, like tuna salad on white, is portable and tidy, and easy to make. Just like when a Texan put a hamburger steak in a bun to make it easier for strollers to eat at the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair. Either way, one of my favorite travel sandwiches was actually one of my worst. A couple years ago at the Yangon, Burma, airport, I arrived hours early for a flight to to find empty waiting halls, no food or stores, and an empty stomach. Staffers lazily sweeping the glittering tile floors offered to help me, shuffling in their flip-flops outside and bringing back two sad croissants stuffed with hot dogs. The woman, wearing two bark-paste suns as decoration and sun block on both cheeks, refused any payment, simply saying: "You looked hungry, Brother. Enjoy." And I did. Sandwiches, I just want to thank you.