Op-Ed: Apparently I’m a Russian Sleeper Agent Because Reading “Fried Chick’n” at Stern Dining Made Me Black Out and Torture the Guy Behind Me

January 24, 2020 12:50 pm
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Op-Ed: Apparently I’m a Russian Sleeper Agent Because Reading “Fried Chick’n” at Stern Dining Made Me Black Out and Torture the Guy Behind Me

As a resident of Stern Hall, I treat myself to the luxurious Stern Dining experience three to five times a day. I know all the tricks—how to stand in a line, how to hold water without spilling it, how to nod and smile at the staff so they know you’re not classist. Dessert Mondays, Taco Tuesdays, Torta Thursdays—I’ve seen it all. So when I saw an unfamiliar dish a few paces ahead of me last Thursday, I was thrilled. But when I got close enough to read the placard, however, everything went black.

I woke up what I assumed to be a few hours later to the screams of a guy strapped to a wooden chair. With a start, I recognized him: he was someone from my PWR class that I once saw fall off his bike and flip into some bushes, and who had just now been behind me in line. With another start, I realized that I was shining a flashlight in his eyes with one hand and holding a lead pipe with the other. Where did a college student even get a lead pipe?

“Why do you keep asking me about Nixon?” he cried. Why did I keep asking him about Nixon? I wasn’t sure either. I apologized and untied him, but he was still super upset. As we escaped from the darkened building I guess I had dragged us to, he gave me the silent treatment. Didn’t even make small talk, how’ve you been, what a busy quarter hahaha. What a jerk. When we were finally out, we realized that we’d been in the Slavic Studies building on main quad. In my pocket was a crumbled Marguerite schedule, a huge wad of American dollars and Russian rubles, and a loaded gun. Woah!

I ditched the gun and used some of the American money to buy us an Uber for the ride back to our respective dorms, since I was too tired to make the trek and his legs were starting to give out from all the times I’d apparently hit them with a lead pipe. Even though I order a luxury ride, just this once, it was a pretty awkward ride. He kept on crying and swearing he wouldn’t tell anyone, which was really cool of him. When we got back on campus he jumped out of the Uber at a full sprint, and then a crawl when he remembered about his legs, and wouldn’t even pay my Venmo request for his half. What an asshole.

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