You get sick pretty easily of college food. I don’t know how they manage to fuck up white rice, but they pull it off swimmingly. So when I heard the school would be treating us to a farewell dinner, I was probably unreasonably excited.
Our dinner would be held at JoJo’s on the Queen Street Mall. With its big neon rainbow sign, I always pegged it for a lesbian bar. Turns out it’s a crazy buffet/steakhouse/pan-asian extravaganza. However, the connotations weren’t lost in that this would be the first time I’d be meeting my new advisor. The outgoing one slurred in my ear during her farewell drunken bacchanal that she thought her replacement was gay, and she wanted me to find out. Did she expect me to go down on him or something?
Turns out he was straight, atleast from what I can tell. I know the idea of a good-looking young man with visible abdominal muscles and impeccable fashion taste voluntarily turning down women “because of religion” seems suspect, but I think he’s the real deal.
The school, being the greedy cash fiends they are, shocked up by giving us each a 50 dollar tab. We marveled momentarily at this windfall of generosity, until we realized they’re still charging us 40 thousand a year. Well, might as well make the most of it.
And make the most of it we did. We all went for the priciest things we could find, then shared. I bought a 30 dollar steak & shrimp meal, which was by far the best steak I’ve had in years. Then I had a slice of Thai pizza, which made me wonder how I’d lived without it in my life until now. Throw in a spoonful of pumpkin soup, a forkful of pesto pasta, and a handful of cheesy nachos, and you had a pretty satisfying meal.
But, for shits and giggles, I decided to get a 20 dollar Pad Thai meal on top of it, wash it down with a strawberry-apple-banana milkshake, and wrap it up with a slice of orange almond chocolate cake (with a scoop of ice cream on top).
All in all, about 2 and 1/2 meals, and I plainly thumbed my nose at the 50 dollar limit, easily breaking 60 clams. A good effort, I’d say.
The next evening, the college served us unidentified C-grade meat in what may or may not be curry, with a side of overboiled broccoli. At least they spoiled us with dessert, a hard and stale raisin cake served with cold lumpy expired custard.
On the other hand, I’m going to have to learn to cook for myself next year, so I best get used to Easy Mac.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment