Like most other students at this school, I love brunch. It’s a necessary part of my weekend routine. I wake up at 11 a.m., still stumbling from the previous night’s shenanigans, and I head over to Usdan, fully expecting to find my favorite I-don’t-care-how-much-weight-I-gain-I’m-going-to-eat-this-anyway foods. But guess what I find instead? The bane of my existence: lines.
Lines oh lines everywhere. Lines for the bacon. Lines for the waffles. Lines just for the freaking utensils. And God help me, that never-ending omelette line. I can feel my hair grow whiter each time I wait for that seductively enticing pocket of cheesy sunshine.
Exaggerations and metaphors aside, lines really are a constant reminder of just how big our school has become (population-wise) and how inadequately prepared we are for it. Yes, I will be the first to admit that my lovely (and massive) freshman class deserves the brunt of the blame, but that does not mean we don’t suffer just as much as everyone else does as we twiddle our thumbs on an empty stomach while waiting for that omelette.
Sure, waiting in line isn’t that bad. Those precious minutes spent waiting can be used for some good old-fashioned socializing or we can just pull a Steve Urkel and whip out that handy dandy book we need to read for lit…but honestly, who is going to do that? It’s the weekend morning, I’m tired, I’m hungry, I can see my friends abandoning me to go find themselves a table, I don’t like standing in close proximity to so many people, I just don’t like people, I’m hungry, and did I mention I’m hungry? To make matters worse, I have to watch everyone around me strolling around with plates piled with food, and I’m tied to this line as if my life depended on it because I’ve already waited ten minutes and I’m too stubborn to give up now.
As you can see, lines should just be eliminated. We should just resort to our primal instincts and grab whatever food we see. There is no need for such social order. I say yes to anarchy! Then maybe I can finally get my damn omelette.