The Process of Eating Alone in the Caf
Timeline as follows:
French class is dismissed. Exit Dealy with a new sense of despair. Returned exam grade is weak. Remember taking it hung-over. Priorities are not straight.
Accept fate. C’s get degrees. Make way to McGinley for a delectable meal.
Greeted by Yadira at front desk. She calls me “baby girl” and reminds me that Friday is only four days away. Sense of hope is re-instilled.
Where should I sit? I am alone. A secluded booth would be ideal. I glance around the congested room. Groups of jubilant friends occupy the booths that should be designated for loners. A high-top table facing the window will suffice.
I am hungry. No. I am hangry. I have forgotten about Yadira and her overwhelming loveliness. All I see are long lines. And am overcome by the smell of hot grease.
Scurrying around food court. Mentally curse my dairy intolerance. Options are extremely limited. Agitation sets in.
I settle for a sandwich. Realize I have left my phone at my seat. Am forced to actively use my brain for a few minutes instead of mindlessly scrolling through memes. Agitation and hangry-ness are rapidly increasing.
Staring off awkwardly into distance. I feel uncomfortable but cannot let observers sense insecurity.
Sandwich line is moving at a glacial pace. Still do not understand the difference between toast and roast? What does that mean? I recognize a boy I saw in Howl. A stranger. He is wearing a cool outfit. We will probably date.
Nicole from class approaches. She is very pretty and smart. Nicole is good at French. She asks me who I am with. I stutter.
Wave to an acquaintance confidently despite the fresh incident with Nicole.
Retrieve sandwich. And a hefty amount of Lay's chips. Someone is using the spoon so I go at it with my hands. I’m sorry.
I am home. To my window. My back is turned to all human life. I put headphones on to ensure isolation.
First bite of sandwich. Almost positive this is not my sandwich. Almost positive this is some sort of synthetic meat. Too lazy to return to counter. Or to be concerned about my health.
Food is inhaled. I hope my future boyfriend did not witness my barbarian-like consumption. He will not judge me though. I know one day he will find it endearing.
Realize I have been looking at memes for twelve minutes.
Bring up dishes to conveyer belt. Consider whether or not I should actually toss my silverware into mysterious blue bath of chemicals. I hesitate because every time it splashes on me. I decide to be a good person. I am still unfazed by potentially poisonous substances.
Make way to door. Do not see boyfriend. He left without me. I will forgive him eventually.
Feeling very content. Made it through my delectable meal with very few undesired interactions.