I can still smell big burgers and fries (and sometimes noodles and garlic bread) when I think of some of my favorite memories. My memories paint me walking through the sunless, fluorescent tunnels of Moody, rounding that corner where maybe you'll spy a cute boy coming from the boys' dorm, and then up the ramp to the glorious meadow of tile where sunlight peeked in and people swarmed from every direction with one mind: food. If it was indeed "Big Burger Thursday" at lunchtime, the line into the SDR curled back around into the bowels of the tunnels, back towards the areas only Food Service ever dared to trod. There seemed to be a haze of gluttony hanging over each college student, for we had smelled the big burger and fries from the courtyard, and followed its aroma to the tunnels. We would stand in line chatting with our friends, but secretly we were planning our burgers and mentally strategizing our way through the SDR, praying the lines would move quickly or that they wouldn't run out of that blessed colby jack cheese.
Finally the meal-ticket-puncher would punch-punch the meal out of my card, and then it was every Moody student for himself. Mentally arming myself, I'd walk straight to the lefthand side, as everyone knew the righthand side had the leftover junk that only those too lazy for the big burger line would touch. Tray. Knife. Fork. Napkins. And boom, I was in line, ready to go. Wait, slow down just a tad so as not to look too eager in front of potentially good-looking boys.
At last, some joyful Food Service worker would slap that patty on the bun, and I would be free to add condiments. Then the fries. Add colby jack cheese, and another slice just for me to eat, simply because it wasn't over-processed orange plastic like what they offered for sandwiches.
Then came the quick eye-sweep of your bro-sis table (the Moody phenomenon of seating arrangements that yielded a high quotient of flirtatious activity) to scope out your eating buddies, and then the seat choice. Choosing wisely, I would sit as closely to the center as possible. One by one, the seats filled in. Boys and girls taking lunch breaks from their classes would revel in the rare mid-day opportunity to converse.
Perhaps it was due to the difficulty of classes, perhaps it was the unique Moody "bubble," or maybe it's just that college students are weird-- whatever the reason, I found that mealtimes were rife with moments of hilarity. Witty things were said, ridiculous things were said, hermeneutical things were said. For those with a penchant for witty banter, this was their stage. Laughter, flirting, more laughter, done with food, back for an apple, play with leftovers, rip up napkins... an hour and three rounds of people later, they would begin to shut off the lights. A Food Service employee would stealthily spray disinfectant just far enough to not poison you, yet just close enough to make you want to leave.
If it was dinner, it would be even longer and include one or two food fights and more relaxed conversation, as there were no pending classes after the meal. And once the lights shut off and the spray bottle came out, there would be the inevitable and predictable trip to CPO to check for mail, and hopefully a love note. Laugh through the tunnels past the creepy exposed and yet strangely brightly painted pipes, almost run into people around the corner, do some tunnel shenanigans after another disappointing CPO run, and then say goodbye at the junction of the dorms. Up the elevator for a night of girly hilarity on the floor... with another day of the same ahead. I would smile.
Don't ask me why my favorite memories bring me back here. It's possibly the pseudo family this world created, the comforting routine, the joyful relationships... whatever it is, it is treasured in my memory-- the mealtime memories.
Finally the meal-ticket-puncher would punch-punch the meal out of my card, and then it was every Moody student for himself. Mentally arming myself, I'd walk straight to the lefthand side, as everyone knew the righthand side had the leftover junk that only those too lazy for the big burger line would touch. Tray. Knife. Fork. Napkins. And boom, I was in line, ready to go. Wait, slow down just a tad so as not to look too eager in front of potentially good-looking boys.
At last, some joyful Food Service worker would slap that patty on the bun, and I would be free to add condiments. Then the fries. Add colby jack cheese, and another slice just for me to eat, simply because it wasn't over-processed orange plastic like what they offered for sandwiches.
Then came the quick eye-sweep of your bro-sis table (the Moody phenomenon of seating arrangements that yielded a high quotient of flirtatious activity) to scope out your eating buddies, and then the seat choice. Choosing wisely, I would sit as closely to the center as possible. One by one, the seats filled in. Boys and girls taking lunch breaks from their classes would revel in the rare mid-day opportunity to converse.
Perhaps it was due to the difficulty of classes, perhaps it was the unique Moody "bubble," or maybe it's just that college students are weird-- whatever the reason, I found that mealtimes were rife with moments of hilarity. Witty things were said, ridiculous things were said, hermeneutical things were said. For those with a penchant for witty banter, this was their stage. Laughter, flirting, more laughter, done with food, back for an apple, play with leftovers, rip up napkins... an hour and three rounds of people later, they would begin to shut off the lights. A Food Service employee would stealthily spray disinfectant just far enough to not poison you, yet just close enough to make you want to leave.
If it was dinner, it would be even longer and include one or two food fights and more relaxed conversation, as there were no pending classes after the meal. And once the lights shut off and the spray bottle came out, there would be the inevitable and predictable trip to CPO to check for mail, and hopefully a love note. Laugh through the tunnels past the creepy exposed and yet strangely brightly painted pipes, almost run into people around the corner, do some tunnel shenanigans after another disappointing CPO run, and then say goodbye at the junction of the dorms. Up the elevator for a night of girly hilarity on the floor... with another day of the same ahead. I would smile.
Don't ask me why my favorite memories bring me back here. It's possibly the pseudo family this world created, the comforting routine, the joyful relationships... whatever it is, it is treasured in my memory-- the mealtime memories.
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