They are flirting shamelessly with two girls wearing tight black pants, carefully selected to accentuate their supple behinds, and short-sleeved shirts that their coarse hair touches in all of its smooth and straightened beauty. After exchanging a friendly greeting with the healthy-looking, if somewhat plump, cafeteria worker with the short, curly, gray hair and entreating her to scan our identification, we move quickly into the main food line to avoid the judgmental glances of the worker socializing nearby. Her shoes are polished black Nikes of some style that has quite gone out of fashion and her feet bulge over their soles to the point that we are afraid they may burst. She notices that we have recognized her hasty observance of our intrusion, and looks away. The black erasable board with its neon marker writing has informed us that today s lunch will be various forms of pizza, and we are pleased that it is recognizable as such.
Hands move from pockets to waist, and back to pockets in impatient succession.
Resenting the boy in front of us who has not mastered the art of rapid movement through the food line, and longing for the peaceful, sleepy atmosphere of breakfast, where silent pairs of students force themselves to eat before class and where the lines are empty due to the general reluctance of college students to rouse themselves on cold January mornings, we wait. While waiting, we are amused by a situation unfolding before us. A young man of no more than nineteen has reached the front of the line on the other side of the semi-circle buffet, and thus is standing only a few feet from the young woman at the head of our line. He must be a future lawyer or politician, for he is adorned accordingly. His neatly pressed light-colored khakis reach just to the top of his polished brown leather shoes, and so have managed to avoid becoming dirty or wet from the snowy sidewalks.