I wake up, groggily. The first thing I usually do when I wake up is check the time. It’s a pretty normal habit, I think. When I wake up, I usually think to myself “It’s too early!” or on rare (and frightening) occurrences “Oh shit! I’m late!”. And I suppose that’s why weekends always felt so calm and relaxing. There’s never the latter.
Today was no different, just another Sunday. I took the path down to Plaza, one of the dining halls here I like, for breakfast. I went down the stairs, walked towards the basketball courts and tennis courts, always a little bit surprised of the construction closing off that whole area. I walk towards the small parking lot next to the courts, as that’s really the only convenient way around now, and enter the Natatorium. There are two sets of double doors in and out. The first door is always so light that I fear that it’ll slam open and shatter. The second set of doors is so heavy that I always look pathetic going through it.
I walked out, looking pathetic yet again because of those doors, past the sandlot where a bunch of people were playing volleyball. I’m always wondering what they’re interests are. I’ll probably never see them again, or at the very least recognize them. So chances were that would be the last time I’d see them. And it’s quite a shallow introduction into my life – and at the same time a very shallow end. All I know of them is that they like to play volleyball in the sandlot behind the Natatorium, probably displaced because the other sandlots, which were nicer in my opinion, were destroyed because of the construction.
I walk past them and notice once again it’s autumn. There aren’t many trees from my dorm to the sandlot now – mostly because of the construction uprooting a large majority of them. Past the sandlot the leaves that fall from the trees are crunchy though. And I gain quite a bit of unfounded pleasure in hearing the crunch after stepping on them. Past the little quad and onward to the heart of Revelle, towering buildings all around.
I walk towards the doors, if someone is before me, they usually keep the door open enough and I make a slight quick paced maneuver towards them, just to make sure I don’t keep them waiting too long. And when walking in, I always check if anyone is behind me. Sometimes when I hold the door open for someone, I wonder if they’ll open it too. And if there were a person behind them, if they’d hold it open for the person behind them. If one thousand people were making their way through a door, I wonder if you could find the one jackass who wouldn’t hold the door open for the person behind them. I don’t think you’d find it in one thousand. Or at the very least, they wouldn’t have the intention of being a jackass – they probably wouldn’t take notice that there’s a person behind them.
Anyway, I walk in and make a quick right, getting a cup of coffee and filling it with one-fourth of cappuccino and three-fourths of a random roast. This hides the fact that the cappuccino is way too sweet and the roast is quite terrible. I think I’m addicted to coffee. Sometimes I make this journey to Plaza specifically for the coffee and rarely get any food. Man, I’m addicted… Which brings to light the question of whether or not having an addiction to coffee is like being in love. Coffee keeps you warm, has you feeling giddy after a kiss, and makes your heart beat faster. It’s like a cliched romance.
I prepare my coffee and walk towards the serving area. I ask for two helpings of eggs and french toast. They do something with the eggs to allow them to become fluffy – from what I heard from a friend last year they mix the eggs with milk and almost pan fry them so that they’re light and large. Anyway, I really like these eggs. They’re not fancy or particularly tasty – but they have a consistency I like. The very definition of “nomnom” if there were one, I would think. I take my plate and walk towards the cashier, giving them my card and never really paying attention to the amount I’m being charged. This is probably why I’m always so short on dining dollars by the end (and why I should start paying attention).
I walk towards the back of the dining hall, sitting always at the same place. I walk up some stairs, not too high, and sit down. From this location, a slight prop of my head upwards would give full view of most of the dining hall. I like Plaza because when I’m in this location, I can see everyone. And one thing I’ve noticed is – and it seems exclusive to this dining hall in particular – a lot of people are eating alone. Most everyone is eating alone.
I dash an absurd amount of black pepper on my eggs, a pinch of salt and eat alone, but happily.
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