Crossing over the threshold, you are immediately hit with a variety of different sensations. At first, the distinctive scents of the Italian, Mexican, Asian, American, and Arabic foods waft in the air and surround you, willing you to try them. Then, your ears are filled with the commotion of college freshman scrambling to find a seat at their favorite spot, frat stars bragging about their latest hook-up, or the athletes dumping food down their throats in an attempt to keep up with their "bulking" diets.
As you make your way past the Italian food, your mouth starts watering as you spot the freshly made pizza, sitting invitingly on its platter. However, don't let it fool you like it has many others because the minute you excitedly sit down with the plain, piece of hot cheese pizza, and take a bite, you are left disappointed by the bland flavor and the lack of cheesiness. If you are lucky, you will learn to walk past the Olive Branch station with no desire nor intention of attempting to give the pizza the benefit of doubt by offering it a second chance. But most people aren't so lucky.
Making my way to my normal seating, I am overwhelmed by a series of emotions including irritation from the redundancy of the food options of the dining hall, stress as I realize my limited time I have to eat, and finally relief that I am provided with this short break before I have to go complete the next tedious task on my endless "To-Do" list. However, every one of these emotions slowly fades away as I turn the corner and spot my favorite people sitting in the indistinguishable colored chairs in our usual meeting spot.
The sun shines brightly into the room, making it near impossible to sit in certain parts of the dining hall without getting blinded. However, I see my friends settled in one of the brightest spots, reluctant to sit in any of the other dull locations around the dining hall. Various conversations are heard as I am making my way to my table, but I focus in on the familiar laughter of my friends from the all too familiar insults that are jokingly thrown around.
I place my belongings next to my now-claimed chair and take a seat before I take a lap around the dining hall in search of food. I feel the vibration of my phone and quickly answer the call.
"Dining hall." my friend confidently states.
"Yeah, red-orange chairs. Come." I say, like I have so many times before.
It being the last week of school, I am suddenly hit by a wave of nostalgia. I glance at the red-orange chairs I am currently sitting in and my mind begins reminiscing on all the past memories of these tables.
When I first moved into the dorms, I initially refused to come down to the dining hall, fearing eating alone as well as the confusion of attempting to discover where all the different foods were. However, once my supply of ramen noodles ran out, I was forced to leave my room, eat by myself and get lost in the dining hall. Sitting alone was tragic. I felt unwelcome and awkward in a place where I always expected to have the time of my life. Each day was the same; grab my food, run to a secluded corner near the cereal, and hastily shovel the food down my throat so I could bolt out of there as quickly as possible.
But as the year went on, I gradually managed to avoid eating meals alone by grabbing a quick bite with my three other roommates. While none of us enjoyed eating in the dining hall, we would make conversation to make the time pass quickly. Eventually, however, I would start to enjoy going to the red chairs to eat meals with the roommate, Yasmin, that I had gotten very close to. And from then on, I started going to the dining hall more than just 3 times a day. It became a ritual to grab tea with Yasmin, usually due to the fact that one of us was always sick and required the herbs to soothe the pain in our throats. Then, I started looking forward to my chats with her. We would giggle about the boys who we thought were cute and tell stories of the nights we had gone out.
Once second semester hit, everything changed. I had become close with some more people and meals became what I looked forward to every day. Instead of rushing to get out of the dining hall, I ended up sitting there for hours. Instead of having an empty table, suddenly, my friends were shoving the red-orange chairs close to the table in places where they shouldn't have been able to fit, hoping to join the conversation.
No longer did I fear walking into the dining hall to eat alone because as soon as I spotted the red-orange chairs, I knew that I would always see a friendly, familiar face.
The red-orange chairs were now associated with memories of friends gathered together, laughing about nonsense that only we understood. The red-orange chairs were there in times when I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone after a rough day, but ended up leaving the dining hall with a small smile plastered across my face. The red-orange chairs were there when I met new friends that I am certain I will be close to for the rest of my college experience. The red-chairs were a constant in my first year at college and a safe haven from the hectic environment around me that many people refer to as college.
Although I am not sure whether the chairs are red or orange, I am sure that I will certainly miss how the red-orange chairs were able to alleviate my fear of never fitting in, allowing me to feel wholesome with the new people I surrounded myself with.
Who knew I would leave my first year of college missing chairs?
