As previously stated, I have several quirks when it comes to my eating habits. Additionally, foods cannot touch one another on my plate. I eat one food at a time before moving on to the next item. I love milkshakes and ice cream even though I’m fairly confident that I may be slightly lactose intolerant. Nobody has ever accused me of making sense. I think we can all agree there…moving on.
Enrolling in college guarantees certain things: delaying entrance into the workforce and becoming contributing members of society (working on campus or at the mall doesn’t count), keeping your status as a “dependant” in order to keep health insurance coverage, starting certain traditions with friends, and creating a black hole of debt that you get to look forward to paying back for the rest of your adult life.
Two of those guarantees apply to this particular post. As a dirt poor college student, it is necessary to find good deals on cheap food. Luckily, my friends and I discovered a Friday lunch special at a local Muncie pub that included a 1-topping 12 inch pizza for $3.25 with the purchase of a drink. You can’t beat that with a stick! for five bucks you got a drink and enough food to last all day. The fact that they had root beer on tap is just a bonus! The price has inevitably risen in the last several years, but it’s still a quality deal. That leads to the tradition part of the guarantee; each week we’d pile in a couple of cars and head downtown to the Heorot – a medieval themed draught house. It got to the point to where we only needed to walk in and hand the bartender our money because they already knew what we wanted. We even got so comfortable that we would bring in our own parmesan cheese because they didn’t provide any. (That’s blasphemy in my book…pizza and no parmesan cheese?!) Unfortunately, they had a pretty big turnover in wait staff resulting in the loss of our familiarity – one guy even had the nerve to inform us that we could not longer bring in our own condiments! Who in the – The nerve of that guy!
Based on the title of this post, you may have some idea that things had nowhere to go but down. You are very right with that assumption! It only took a week or two before we came to the realization that there was a price to pay that was associated with such a stellar lunch special. We soon became very aware of the risks involved in going to the Heorot immediately before class. You see, when you eat that much food in one sitting and share a pitcher of root beer with only one other person, that food and beverage cannot stay in your digestive system for long…there simply isn’t enough room. It’s science, really. (Taking home leftovers isn’t much of an option seeing as how the bar does not provide to-go boxes, and I was raised on the premise that you don’t leave the table until your plate is clean.) And that’s where the term “Heorot dump” originated from. Not to mention it was the only relief available from feeling like a fat, lazy, worthless turd for the remainder of the day. (Pun most certainly intended!) Luckily, the house we were renting at the time had 2 toilets to help accommodate our situation. Some of my friends were not so lucky. Sucked to be them. After discovering such unwanted news, we quickly adapted our class schedules to avoid any embarrassing mishaps while sitting in class with anywhere between 20-200 other people.
Sadly, as you can imagine after 4, 5, or 7 years, college came to an abrupt end and we were left facing the “real world.” We could no longer base our schedules around lunchtime on Fridays because The Man was keeping us down. A lot of our group had left town and moved on with their lives. Eventually, the tradition had completely petered out.
Recently, a friend of mine has gained employment back in Muncie, and since I never completely left, we have resumed our tradition on a near weekly basis. In an attempt to revive our glory days of college, we wander down to the Heorot almost every Friday where it seems that the staff is starting to get used to our order, but I don’t quite feel comfortable trying to smuggle in parmesan cheese just yet. The bad news (and this is where things run downhill <– see what I did there?), is that we are no longer afforded the luxury of making our own schedules. While we are trying to recreate the best times of our youths, The Man is busy with an evil ploy to ruin our afternoons. It has nearly turned into a contest to see if we can complete our meal and make it back to our offices in time. The event known as the “Heorot dump” has since made a defiant return and taken on a new incarnation. While most people tend to use the ol’ saying of “dropping the kids off at the pool,” the “Heorot dump” has become “taking the kids to track practice…’cause I got the runs!”
With that being said, enjoy your weekend and try not to think about this the next time you are about to take a glorious chomp out of a huge, greasy slice of pie. Nothing like a little toilet humor to get your weekend kicked off just right. WINK! You’re welcome.
Man, I’m getting hungry!
Thank you, that is all.