Let me preface this by stating that what I’m about to describe doesn’t quite count as stealing. I mean, yes, I know I paid for it with my overpriced dining plan, but still, for some reason, every time I put one too many apples in my backpack, or take a couple of bagels for the road, I just feel dirty — though that may just be the lingering effects of walking through Commons.
Regardless, every time I pass by the random assortment of breads, or the untouched bowl of oranges, I can’t help but think, “I might need this later.” Which is why, every time I get swiped into Commons (and awkwardly say “You too” after being told to have a good dinner), I take it as a personal challenge to fit as much food as I can in my backpack.
I’m not sure exactly when this habit began. Maybe it was after being hit on not once but twice by different Commons employees. Or maybe it was when the “EXCUSE ME, WE’RE CLOSING!” lady interrupted and ended the dinner I was having with the cute guy in my Chemistry lab. Or after being stared down by the scary cup lady on multiple occasions. Whatever. You get the point. I don’t like Commons.
Sometimes I like to play the “See How Much Strange Shit I Can Steal” game. I’ve taken pumpkins, Tupperware containers full of cereal and, one time, an entire chocolate pie. As I’m stocking up on apples, oranges, strange pastries, bagels and the occasional decorative green pepper, I feel empowered. I feel like I’m fighting “the man.” Which man? It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m fighting him.
Just as the colonists rebelled against injustice, I too am fulfilling my daily quota of civil disobedience by rebelling against the injustice that is Commons. Therefore, when I steal from Commons, I’m not just filling my fridge—I’m being a good American.
