smugglin

Stupid things make my day.

The other day, Leon, JF and i were studying in the library late at night when hunger started to get the best of all of us. It's funny how i can be working extremely efficiently on engineering economics calculating the net present worth of canada savings bonds, and be completely content doing so, but as soon as JF mentions being hungry, the thought of food possesses my mind until i eat. Suddenly, quantities of Candian dollars don't mean anything to me, and i can't comprehend their size unless i think in terms of "100 Canadian dollars is equivalent to 25 street meat sausages, 10 hot tofu soups, OR SEVENTY ONE POINT NINE FOUR TWO MCDONALD'S BACON CHEESEBURGERS" That's pretty much 72 bacon cheeseburgers minus a baby bite. I'm making myself fiend for a cheeseburger right now just thinking about it... Anyways the point of this paragraph, since i haven't made it very clear, is that once there's food on my mind, i have to have it.

That night, when JF said those night-changing words "are you going to eat?" sushi popped straight into my mind and latched on to my lobes with adhesive ice picks. Luckily for me though, a new sushi restaurant had just opened accross the street just a couple of months earlier. (before, if i had wanted sushi i'd have to take something like a 15 minute walk to find a place in chinatown; not that i wouldn't do it, but it adds to the food wait.) Our game plan was that Leon and i would head over to grab some takeout and JF would stay back to watch our stuff. So we headed out, my face lit up because i was so excited for the food to come.

In my mind, sushi take out looks something like one of those containers that you grab from the supermarket. Small, sweet, and easily stowable under a jacket if one hypothetically wanted to sneak it into the library, out of sight from prying eyes so that he... or she could enjoy it at the second floor studying area in a comfortable recluse of bookshelves with some good friends. So when we ordered 3 takeout bento boxes, and were given an individual takeout box for each of the of 5 parts of the 3 boxes (do the math, that's 15 takeout boxes), i was mildy surprised. We had three plastic bags, each filled to capacity, and ballooning outwards as if they would explode at any second, and Leon and i had to find a way to get them past the all-seeing librarian. I came up with the idea that we would hold the bags with our left hands (the librarian sits on the right side of the entrance) so that we could mask the goods with our respective girths. Even with such a genius plan, i was pretty darn anxious as we approached the library entrance. To our surprise, the librarian was not at her guard post, and we had a small window of opportunity to book it up the stairs with our styrofoam take out boxes squeaking REALLY FREAKING LOUD as they rubbed against each other. The students who were quietly studying gave us death glares. I don't blame them, the gyoza was smelling heavenly.

On the second floor, there are not usually any library staff, but due to the nature of the building, sound carries really easily to the first floor. The three of us proceeded to pig out as silently as possible, carrying out a mid-library picnic with about a dozen fellow late-night studiers glaring at us constantly, probably constructing plans in their minds on how to kill us so that they could dig in to some wasabi-peppered sashimi.

There is something that just feels so right about wiping my hands clean on a napkin while posted above me is a sign reading "love your library, no food allowed" and then tossing away a huge pile of styrofoam into a wastebasket which is not adequately sized for food waste. I just felt so accomplished, like i'd pulled of my own personal Ocean's 11 but instead of trying to smuggle something out of a casino, it was a very conspicuous reverse-direction smuggling.

I feel like this is one of my greatest life accomplishments. My own way of rebelling. Take that, conformity.