On March 24, 2025, our Creative Writing class took a field trip to Costco. It all started with a problem: what happened to all our snacks? As it turns out, we ate them. Every last one.

This wasn’t the first time we had run out of snacks. Creative writing is serious work—almost equivalent to playing soccer, basketball, or dare I say, running a marathon. Our minds need fuel, especially at 2:30 PM sharp. Without even a single saltine cracker, the crankiness and hangriness would become unbearable.

Should we lock the snack door to prevent theft? Should we ration our saltines? Hopeless ideas swirled around the room until a student—a hero without a cape—raised his hand and suggested: what if we took a field trip to Costco?

Our teacher, Emily Wolahan-Reavill, lit up with an expression none of us expected at such an outrageous idea. And just like that, the next day we were handed permission slips for “A trip to Costco to do writing activities + exercises.”

It was one of those early spring days in San Francisco when the city was bursting into bloom and testing out its summer wardrobe. Emily, determined to get us outside one way or another, found the perfect excuse.

We pooled our funds to shop for classroom snacks, but the real goal was to sharpen our observational skills. Our writing prompts included: describe an action using a simile, jot down a snippet of overheard conversation, and observe a couple shopping together and infer their relationship.

At first, it felt a little creepy being so hyper-attentive in a place where I’m usually distracted. And yes, we did get some judgmental stares at the absurd amount of junk food crammed into our cart. But by the end, my notes page was full of silly observations and vivid memories with my senior cohort.

For my simile, I captured a moment with Gabriel (Class of ‘25): He lifted the pack of Bounty paper towels like a farmer lifting a hay bale. Simple as it is, I adore this sentence. In that moment of observing, I felt like I saw Gabriel in his true form.

We’ve all grown up together over the past four years, but how often do we really stop to notice each other?

As I devoured a gigantic, greasy slice of Costco pizza, I looked around and spotted wild creative writers pushing carts overflowing with snacks in every font of junk food imaginable. And I realized how rare and wonderful it was to be surrounded by these people, in this magical, chaotic place.

Thank you, Costco.