With all the stress that comes with being a Cornellian, the dining halls are always a welcome (albeit sometimes redundant) break from academia. Pile on the pizza and burgers, please! And because of the relaxed, lighthearted nature of most of my dining hall ventures, I am generally quite joyous as I swipe my card and enter. Each dining hall experience is a raucous, playful affair where camaraderie abounds.
However, I do have one complaint, and it’s not even about the food. You see, most dining halls don’t really have a clear set of rules about who gets what food first. Usually, a simple line for the food is created, which is a straightforward and painless procedure. This system is obviously governed by “first-come, first serve,” and people get their food according to their relative arrival time in relation to the other students. You come and wait in line for your turn. Simple.
Nevertheless, there perpetually is always that one Douche McGee that doesn’t seem to grasp this “line” concept, and thinks that he/she is hungrier than the rest of us. There was one particularly brazen McGee who is the worst case to date. With utter disregard and lack of respect, McGee just walked past the line of people, past the angry glares and went directly to the steaming food. He shoveled it on his plate hurriedly because he clearly saw the error in his ways, but he continued anyway. He even mocked us by pouring a generous amount of barbeque sauce onto his chicken fingers before rushing away shamelessly.
Libe Slope becomes particularly treacherous during the rainy season. Torrential downpours transform Libe Slope into a nightmarish slant of slippery-ness. My friend and I recently figured this out firsthand.
After a rather mediocre meal at Okenshields, my friend and I started trekking down the Slope. There had been a nasty amount of precipitation earlier in the day, and the Slope was especially wet. I think it’s also worthy to note that we both had spectacularly high ice cream cones. Whilst traveling down the Slope, my friend had his ice cream cone in one hand and his iPhone in the other, playing Chess with Friends.
And in one moment, I heard the sound of my friend slipping as he lost traction with the ground and fell. His ice cream come went flying and landed in the grass, strawberry ice cream oozing into the dirt. His iPhone clattered to the ground and also landed in the grass. “Oh, no! The iPhone!” I exclaimed. Then, I changed into Douche McGee as I rushed to the aid of the iPhone and not to the aid of my fallen friend.
Eric Ding is a sophomore in the College of Arts & Sciences. He can be reached at email@example.com This Week in Douchebaggery appears alternate Mondays this semester.