by Molly (’15)
Sometimes, for whatever reason, somebody in Creative Writing decides to purchase a large tub of ice cream during lunch. Instead of eating the ice cream by themselves, huddling in a corner of the classroom, hissing at anybody who dares ask for a bite, the purchaser will usually bring the ice cream into the Creative Writing room to share. “I bought ice cream!” they will declare as they hold the regal dairy product about their head, and soon the classroom will explode into a chorus of hurrahs.
What happens next is like something out of Lord of the Flies. The classroom will separate into two groups—those that want ice cream and will do anything to get some, and those who don’t feel like ice cream is a good enough reward for risking their lives. The latter group will watch in awe and disgust as their peers scramble desperately for the ice cream, using any manner of utensils available, such as straws and chopsticks. Within thirty seconds, the gallon tub will be scraped clean, and the brave ice cream warriors will retreat back to their seats, faces aglow with victorious chocolate stains.
It’s a strange ritual, but it would be of great interest to any respectable National Geographic journalist.