He Says/ She Says: A Cafeteria Experience
By Chris King

I find myself in an almost plush burgundy print chair, sitting over an almost matching burgundy table, swirling leftover milk in my cereal bowl. I’m staring listlessly at a girl from my sister wing opposite me as she scarfs down her salad that is drenched in way too much French salad dressing. I glance up at the digital clock on the wall as its bright red digits skip from 6:58 to 6:59. I groan to myself as I think, man, I’ve been here in the cafeteria for almost two hours.

I think back to what brought me here in the first place. Besides the allure of all that freshly fixed food for me to forage on, I mean. It must have been shortly after five p.m. when several restless guys on my wing pulled me from my late afternoon nap to grab some grub. And why not? I was more than likely hungry anyway, so I came.

Mimi cordially greeted me as she swiped my well-worn Eagle ID card and passed me through into the cafeteria. My senses told me chicken patties were definitely on the menu for this evening. I wandered around the vast expanse of the cafeteria for almost ten 10 minutes, visiting every open food station to select my first course for the evening meal. To my delight, when I returned to my wing table, I found that every place surrounding mine was reserved with upside down ID cards. I set down my tray and carefully lifted each card around me in hopes of its owner being one of my friends.

Since that time, I have worked my way through seven plates of eaten and uneaten food while making small talk to whomever happens to be sitting around me. I’m sure my stomach was full several plates ago, but like impulse shopping, I had no thought of the future consequences.

For quite a while now, I have been caught up in one of my favorite cafeteria hobbies: people watching. I’ve found that people are infinitely weird and wonderful. I love observing all different kinds of people interact with each other and finding that there are so many different ways to be a person. Each person I see has a unique individuality, and yet everyone has a common bond. Maybe it’s the food.

“See you later.” The girl on my sister wing finishes her inundated salad and picks up her tray to leave. I realize that I will be alone at the table again and look up at the digital clock once more. 7:01. Smiling, I decide that it’s time for me to leave as well.

By Rachel Smith

I’m standing in the midst of an inevitable force that’s slowly pushing me in one way. Blocked in all directions, I have no choice but to surrender. Swallowed by a mysterious urgency, I give in to its demand, nearly trampled by its power. No, I am not talking about being caught in the middle of a stampede of wild horses (although it is similar), but simply lunchtime at ORU— particularly on chapel days, in which afterward, a mad rush to the cafeteria ensues.

At last, I reach my destination: the entrance to Sodexho. I open the door and a gust of wind flings my hair across my face. I desperately try to push it away from my eyes, stumbling into the foyer, bumping into the person in front of me, and apologizing to the person behind me for not holding the door open for them. Turning back to step into line, I scan what looks like the luggage department at Sears, as I search to find a place to set my backpack. I hurriedly spy a nice little pile of black book bags and fling mine on top, hoping someone won’t mistake mine for theirs and vice versa. Quickly rummaging through my collection of credit cards, bank cards and phone cards, I manage to find my student ID without holding up the line. Ms. Pansy greets me and swipes my card.

I enter, avoiding the oncoming traffic of students. I unintentionally interrupt those in conversation who are standing in front of the cereal as I slip between them. When I finally reach my wing table, I slap my card down to reserve my seat, taking quick glances at everyone else’s food. Of course, it is only a matter of curiosity, because nothing compares to Arrezolli’s Pizza (well, except for a steak). After grabbing my food, I make my way to Thirst Base in search of a Pepsi, impressed with the chefs wearing the pillar white hats and their ability to dispense food faster than Nolan Ryan can pitch.

I sit and eat, making conversation between bites and laughing with friends about my day. Saving the best for last, I head for the Finishing Touch: dessert. In my opinion, there are two kinds of dessert lovers at ORU. The first I call cookie munchers. They are the ones who walk around with one of those tiny saucers but attempt to carry 20 cookies in it. The second group is the ice cream indulgers. How do you recognize them? Easy. They eat their ice cream in a bowl and sprinkle it with all sorts of toppings. Any average person just eats ice cream in a cone.

Finally full, I throw away my trash, send the plate back to be washed, and drop the silverware in the water. I grab a mint as I walk out the door, believing it will stimulate my brain and revive me for my next class. I wish it would remind me to grab my book bag too.

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