What Grinds My Gears

The Long Line: It’s 12 p.m., lunch time, and I’m ready to get me some delicious well-earned sustenance. I am however halted in my noble quest by an abysmally large group of students in a single file clump all the way down Walton’s stairs. Where did this monstrosity come from? It’s never here during breakfast or even dinner for that matter. Of course I join the students in their sorrow because I’m a hungry man who cannot be late to his Bible class at 1 p.m. On and on, I trudge until I finally make it up these dark lit stairs and into the natural lighting of the Dining Commons.

The Classics: After I endure that fiasco I foolishly decide to wait in another line for the Classics. What lies at the other end? I’m not really sure. Once I finally make it up to the utensils I’m greeted with the pleasant surprise of noodles, asparagus, rice, corn, and no meat. Why are the vegetarians trying to take away my sweet, sweet chicken? Are they not aware they have their own little corner on the other end of the Dining Commons? There’s a reason the grill and the salad bar are so far apart!

The Desserts: Since I’ve been doing such a great job eating right and keeping my freshman fifteen at bay I think it’s time to reward myself with a light helping of five or more slices of cheesecake, seven or so peanut butter cookies, and about two kilograms of chocolate-vanilla ice cream. Of course, the more I put on my plate the more glares I receive. I feel there are people who are just waiting to see how much ice cream and how many cookies I’ll try to eat, because the minute I put something on my plate I always get this judgmental look from someone, like they’re about to say, “Ooh, that cannot be healthy for you.” Don’t judge me! I’ll eat all the cake I want! I am, after all, paying several thousands of dollars for it.

Last-Minute Friends: I have finally finished my dessert, and I’m getting ready to clear my dishes and head off to my next class when two of my friends show up and say, “Hi, can we sit with you?” I’m just sitting there thinking, “Do you not see the empty bowl of ice cream and decimated chicken wrap on my plate?” But of course I figure I could stay to talk with them for five or so minutes. They set down their backpacks and head off to get some food. So I wait, and I wait, and I wait, until I realize 10 minutes have gone by, and while I was sitting here mindlessly staring at my plate full of garbage I could have already thrown away my trash, cleaned my table, gotten my after-meal mint, and made it to my Bible class with five minutes to spare. But no, I had to wait for my forgetful friends to return just so that I can tell them, “Sorry, but I should really get going. I don’t want to be late to my next class,” which (by the way) I’m already five minutes late for.

So after everything is said and done, I leave the Dining Commons with a stomachache the size of KG Hill, an appetite that’s barely been satisfied and a half-absence on my attendance. THANK YOU, LUNCH!

Image courtesy of Anonymous/The Waltonian