So, I've only been a college student for one semester. But if there's a single takeaway I have from my college experience thus far, it'd be that having a personal bottle of Sriracha Hot Chili sauce on me at all times has been integral to my wellbeing as a dietary supplement to my meals.

I'm describing this from personal experience, and so I'm sure not everyone enjoys—or needs—spice in their lives. But sometimes, the routine of college life requires a little pick-me-up, and for $2.99 per 17 oz., I'd vouch for the saying that money buys happiness...for my wallet and taste buds, that is.

During my first week at my college's Dining Hall, I noticed that while there was always a Sriracha bottle available, so many students would use it throughout the day that by the time I'd get to it, there'd only be a smidge of sauce left. It didn't help that the appearance of the bottle itself wasn't an enticing invitation for use, as the cap was always encrusted in dried bits of hot sauce, with also-dried dribbles going down along the bottle's exterior.

I was getting annoyed due to the constant lack of Sriracha. The kitchen leaves out only one bottle of each type of condiment at a time in order to avoid overconsumption by diners; the more Sriracha bottles the kitchen could make available, the more funding the university would have to spend, making it reasonable that the one-bottle-per-condiment limit was in place.

So, I took the initiative and made it my foremost priority to go to the nearest supermarket and buy the hot sauce that I so dearly desired.

I preferred purchasing the smaller-sized bottle as compared to its 28 oz. counterpart, which sells for around $4.50. With its sleek fit, it didn't occupy as much space in my mini fridge. Plus, whenever I carried my personal Sriracha bottle with me—which was most of the time, as I never knew when there'd be a dry- or bland-tasting meal emergency—its slim size was a perfect, snug fit into my water bottle holder on the outside of my backpack.

And sure, the easiest and most logical solution would've been to save a few cents, buy the larger bottle and pour some of the hot sauce into a travel-size container for everyday use. However, I truly don't mind promoting the Sriracha corporation—I'm writing a whole article about its product, after all. I admire the brand not only for being one of the most affordable and accessible hot sauce options on the market, but also for its humble beginnings of a 20th-century Vietnamese refugee who sold his hot sauce to Americans door-to-door as a means of moving past his hardships, and using that defiance to share his love for spice with the Western world.

For as depicted through the brand's logo of a rooster, the unassuming strength of this small, mostly flightless bird is indicative of that very same strength he found within himself to persevere in a country that wasn't his own, at a time when that country didn't treat their refugees much like their own.

And although I write that the Sriracha bottle I had was for personal use, I always made exceptions for anyone who asked for some. For no matter if that person was a friend or stranger, Sriracha's distinct taste and design always made for better-tasting food, and more fruitful conversation complete with an intriguing history lesson.

Because beyond being a low-cost food enhancer and an interesting conversation starter, Sriracha serves its purpose as a beacon of hope for those who meet adversity. It's a condiment designed for everyone's pleasure and consumption, no matter who they are or where they come from.

And that's what makes Sriracha Hot Chili sauce so personal, yet so universal.