I feel the most “college” not at dorm parties when someone throws caution to the wind and accepts the alcohol violation on behalf of a greater good, not at frat parties where that one corner of the room is a little too dark for anyone’s liking, not at the nonexistent pep rallies or lecture halls or overcrowded common areas.

No, it’s when I order Chinese food;

it’s when there’s a big group together and no one’s mother orders a bunch of what she thinks everyone will like

it’s when everyone places an order and tosses in their cash.

it’s activating my "phone voice" because I don’t mind repeating the name of our hall, again and again, until it sinks in for the cashier.

it’s “does anyone have change for a twenty” even though no one ever does, no one ever has cash because their credit union isn’t in New York and there’s no ATM on campus.

it’s making mental lists of who owes you Chinese food and inevitably giving up by November because who cares anyway, we’re all in this strange thing together, and someone probably spotted you that one time anyway and it turns out you owe that girl money anyway for that time at the bar.

it’s paying tips in quarters and spreading everything out and always saying “oh my god, this is so much food” and then divvying it up and eating all of it anyway.

and eating, so often, on the floor because someone has a white comforter or doesn’t want anything spilled on their bed.

it’s the “oh, can I have some of that” and always a rice or soup or egg roll that no one thinks they ordered.

it’s a sense of mock adulthood and independence, even though none of us own real plates and we scramble to find silverware because the delivery place never gets it quite right.