...Or something!
So I was on Facebook-- as, I have it on good authority, all the cool kids are-- when who should message me but Eric! As I have, in the past, found Eric to be a dispenser of infinite wisdom, I sat up and paid attention to the following:
"Emily! Why have I not heard exciting collegeish stories?"
The obvious answer to this question is, of course, because I don't have any. But really, who settles for not having any exciting stories to share when there's the possibility, staring them in the face, of hyping up existing stories until they seem exciting!
So that, ladies and gents, is exactly what I'm about to do.
Exciting Story #1: The Monuments
Actually, the basic requirements for finding this story exciting are: (1) a love of history; and (2) a love of pretty things which light up. And since I have a love of both those things, I was pretty much head-over-heels in love with the entire "monuments at night" experience. I saw The Washington Monument (aka, our nation's favorite gigantic, phallic symbol), the World War II Memorial (which is amazing, but totally fails to be captured successfully in any single picture; aerial photography might do the trick, but I have my doubts); the Lincoln Memorial, the Korean War Memorial (which, in a moment of total seriousness, is my favorite of all the war memorials, and should totally be seen at night or not at all, because it is at its best and its eeriest at night), and the Vietnam War Memorial.
I also talked fiscal politics with a Republican-- weird! plus I was totally out of my depth! I'm a social issues girl, guys!-- and paid a visit to a bathroom with automatic soap dispenser, but no paper towels.
Exciting Story #2: The Baseball Game
OHMYGOD I LOVE BASEBALL. And I was not getting my baseball fix. Nope. So when my uncle invited me to a Washington Nationals game, I disregarded the fact that the Nationals are, quite literally, the worst team in the nation (this is a fact which can be statistically proven), and jumped at the chance. I'm used to rooting for teams which perpetually loser, after all. Go Mariners! ;]
Anywho! This game? Yeah, it turned into a Baseball Saga. It was like the Iliad, the Odyssey, and Harry Potter, all rolled into a baseball game.
(Actually, that's a total lie-- it was just a really long baseball game, which lasted three hours and forty-four minutes, but which did not involve, as far as I could tell, any long sailing journeys, machinations in the lives of men courtesy of weirdly apathetic gods, or wizards.)
BUT.
The game concluded with a fireworks show set to the songs of The Beatles. YES.
Exciting Story #3: Stealing Bread
Oh yeah. I saved the really exciting stuff for last. BAM.
Some quick back story, so we can get to the petty thievery: on Saturday, I went to dinner, a movie, and then Cheesecake Factory. Oh God, you guys, I adore Cheesecake Factory. It is delightful. Anyway, the Cheesecake Factory in Friendship Heights doesn't have a takeout counter? Which is how I've always eaten at Cheesecake Factory before. I've just hurried in, ordered a slice, and left again. But at this one, we actually had to walk in and sit down, which meant that the waiter came up to us, provided us with a menu, a basket of bread, several tablets of butter, and began listing the specials.
WE WERE FLUMMOXED.
We weren't sure exactly how to explain to the waiter that we wanted to skip straight to dessert? I felt it might be rude! And he just kept talking about how they had really good fish! And I just kept fidgeting, wanting to blurt out something along the lines of, "Oh God, oh God, keep your fish away from me! Please just bring me cheeeeeesecake! I want cheesecake; I am staring at the TWO PAGES in your menu which are devoted to cheesecake, and for God's sake, I really would like dessert. You work in a place called THE CHEESECAKE FACTORY. Surely I am not the first person to walk in expecting cheesecake!"
(Anyway, I ended up basically just shouting at a retreating waiter, "Um, actually could we just have dessert?" Which turned out to be the way to go, since, uh, he basically just went, "Yep!")
SO ANYWHO.
The bread was still just sitting there, staring at me. And guys, I wanted that bread. There's not enough bread hanging out in my dorm room. Like, there's peanut butter. There's jelly. There's cream cheese. There's honey. THERE ARE THINGS WHICH COULD CONCEIVABLY GO ON BREAD.
So damn it, I wanted that bread.
Of course I could not finish the cheesecake in one sitting; who can, at The Cheesecake Factory? So I asked the waiter to bring me a box. And with that box, he provided a bag. A bag that was far larger than the box. In fact, when the box (containing some seriously delicious Oreo Mudslide cheesecake) had been deposited in the bag, there was still copious amounts of space.
So I looked around, vaguely guilty, and then grabbed the bread basket and dumped the entire thing in the bag, paid the bill in a frenzy, and fled the Scene of The Crime.
I'm so rebellious.
...
Guys, no joke, that is the most impressive thing I've done since arriving at college. No wild parties, no crazy shenanigans, no D.C. drama. Just stealing bread that I was entirely entitled to, from a restaurant whose main function OUGHT TO BE providing dessert.
I won't lie, though. I'm happier sans the crazy, rebellious drama (which, as you all know, has been a hallmark of my life up until this point). ;]
Hope everyone's doing well!
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