In these overcrowded days, even the act of grabbing a bite to eat can feel like a chore. Who among us has not been witness to the surging masses of people stifling Food Court at prime meal time (6 to 7:30 p.m.)? I and hundreds of others have felt buffeted by the throngs, have traveled through the bane of claustrophobics in that basic quest for sustenance. So I can sympathize with your plight. Thus, I'd like to propose a game of sorts for you to try next time you're in Food Court, waiting in an interminable queue for your piece of the proverbial meat pie. See if you can spot each of the thirteen Food Court characters listed below.
A. The Filler-Upper. Through some magic aligning of fates, this person desires exactly the same beverage that you'd like, but has arrived a moment sooner, and so stands at that dispenser filling her cup for at least five minutes, waiting for the foam to go down, filling more, ensuring that she has received her money's worth.
B. The Throwback. You will be able to spot this person ahead of you in the grill line, attempting to order the special from four days ago.
C. Inappropriate Man. It should be noted, you won't so much see this person as hear him. Just as you're happily digging into that cheesesteak or bean salad, he will begin a scatological topic of conversation at a neighboring table. This graphic and possibly offensive discussion inevitably drifts to your unwilling ears. And yes, it's always a male.
D. The Sap. You see a person ahead of you leave your food line in favor of another, thus allowing you to advance one unit closer to your goal of nourishment. A normal occurrence; but then a moment later, you experience a moment of private satisfaction as the person returns to your line, now relegated to the back, after discovering she wasn't interested in the other line after all. What a sucker!
E. Pokey. This person has never learned the fine art of having his ID card ready when it's his turn to pay at the register. Instead, the card is buried in a wallet or a shoe, and you stand and watch the aeons pass until the card finally appears. Possibly related to The Throwback.
F. The Cyberkid. Plugging away in the corner at his UltraMegaPowerBook, this person cannot be deterred from his work by the mere primal pull of victuals. He exists solely to make you feel guilty for taking a meal break from your studies.
G. The Killjoy. Always located right in front of you in line, this person has a knack for ordering the last slice of pizza, or the final hamburger in stock, or whatever else you really wanted, and you know you're going to pout because you don't care about the other stuff anyway.
H. The Wiseacre. This person can often be found in the immediate vicinity of the grill menu, poking fun at the abundance of typos therein, such as the chronic misspelling of the word "Reuben." (Okay, so this person is me.)
I. Cute Girl/Guy Who You Barely Know. Ah, the charms of misguided affection: this is the person that you've seen everyplace but have never gotten a chance to talk to, the person who you're absolutely convinced will share your same interests and desires, the person who has soulmate potential written all over his or her finely chiseled brow. When will the day come when you and this future source of joy reach for the same packet of catsup at the same time, your fingers gently colliding with the other's?
J. The Innovator. Just as electricity has Edison to thank, so we owe our gratitude to The Innovator, a true pinnacle of inventiveness within the realm of Food Court. She will be the one that you notice ordering a mixture of white and red sauce on her pasta, or a daring combination of chicken filet and Russian dressing, the person that makes you think, "Wow wish I'd thought of that."
K. The Accident-Waiting-To-Happen, Happening. This person is marked for disaster. Whether it's someone slipping in a tracked-in puddle on the floor in the wintertime, or someone who has loaded his tray too full and is watching in horror as its contents slide off, one thing is for sure: he won't be easy to miss.
L. The Busy Hands. Something about the romantic ambience of Food Court inspires this person to continually touch and stroke and rub various parts of his or her significant other at the table, disdaining public mores in favor of lechery. About as appetite-inspiring as Inappropriate Man.
M. The Deceiver. This person serves solely one function, and that is to call out across the dining hall addressing someone with the same first name as you, who is not you. He is adept at concealing himself within the sea of faces, so that you may search at great length for whoever may or may not have been shouting to you.
Hopefully, the game of hunting down these personages will help to pass the time as you stand decaying in the ageless queues. And remember, Larry James loves you. Right? Speaking of which, Mr. James, could I get a sandwich named after me? Chicken filet, Russian dressing, swiss and tomato. I'm your biggest fan. I have a short and appetite-inspiring name. Just think about it, ok?