Happy 8PM on a Sunday night, I’m presently standing in the basement of a building I didn’t know existed, typing this blog on my phone because I forgot to do it earlier, and waiting in line for food.
It’s pretty nice, actually – my residence hall has a “Friendsgiving” event, where all the residents, freshmen through seniors, come together with dishes they’ve prepared to celebrate Thanksgiving.
What’s not as nice is that, as a freshman, I get last pick of the food.
I mean, I can’t really complain, because I know I’ll eventually be a senior and get first pick, but I’m pretty hungry and lines are not the friend of a hungry Meilin. I hope there’s still plenty of food left by the time I make it up there – there’s a shrimp dish that looks particularly good, and I’d be a little more than hurt if I didn’t at least get to taste some of it.
Since coming to college, I’ve gotten really spoiled with being able to eat pretty much whenever I want to without waiting, assuming I go to the dining hall at a decent time (there are certain periods that are busy where’s you do have to wait in lines). The whole “waiting for food to cook” notion isn’t something I’ve come across for a while.
Regardless of how long into the afternoon I’ll have to wait before dinner is served, I’m still very excited for Thanksgiving! The food they’ve got for us for Howard Friendsgiving looks good, but it’s nothing compared to my mother’s cooking.
For that matter, it’s nothing compared to my or my grandmother’s cooking, as we both contribute pretty fairly to the Thanksgiving meal. My dad on the other hand…he does a nice job setting the table and turning on the grill.