I hear you. What’s taking so long? Why are we not moving? I get it. You have a class to go to, friends you want to see, essays to write. Believe me, I do too. I would love to just be able to duck into Peirce, get my pasta and get on with my life, but here we are, stuck in a line I have (unintentionally) completely frozen.
We’ll be here for a while so I may as well explain why. I have Celiac Disease. This means my body cannot handle even the tiniest amount of gluten. It’s not an allergy; my body treats gluten like a disease and attacks it, destroying my intestine in the process. I’m not going to give you all the gross details. It suffices to say it sucks. A lot. Look it up.
So I have to ask for gluten-free food. Peirce is a lovely place, and I normally don’t have a problem. It’s a lifesaver. Literally. This pasta line, however, is the exception. No matter what I do, whether I wait until I get up to the front to ask for gluten-free or try to warn them in advance, it seems to always end up this way. The short line I got in is now stretching toward the door, the guy immediately behind me is wondering what he did to deserve this, and the people in the back are wondering if this station has been abandoned altogether.
Why does this take so long, you ask? I only have half an answer to that. Sometimes it’s just because Peirce is busy, although I try to avoid the rush now. Sometimes it’s because the gluten-free pasta hasn’t been cooked yet. Sometimes it’s because the pasta is really cold and needs to be heated up. Occasionally, it’s because the gluten-free pasta has gone A.W.O.L., but that only happened once. Always, it’s because they have to change their gloves before handling the gluten free food, which is something I do actually need (for the record, I do see the skepticism in your eyes when I say that, but it doesn’t change the facts).
Regardless of why, we’re going to be here for a few minutes, so here’s my suggestion: take some chill time. This semester, I have become a master in the art of waiting for food, so believe me when I say this will make everything better. Instead of shuffling your feet, whining, staring at your watch and treating this like it’s three minutes in purgatory, chill. Relax. At this particular moment, you’re not in class and you’re not writing a paper. Yes, you have things to do, but not at this instant. By all means, stare at your phone: check Facebook, text your mom, read the news. Or better yet, talk to a friend in line. Hell, if you’re that kind of person, make a new friend in line. You can bond over how slow the line is moving.
Enjoy this little pocket of time in whatever way you can, because once you get your pasta, it is gone and it’s back to your daily grind.
Image Credit: Claire Smith and Pamaroma