You just got a salad and a plate of fried pollack.  Is that even a fish?  Either way, it’s not your fault there are 300 people in the deli line.  As you make your way out with plate in one had and drink in the other you look to find your friends.  Scanning the sea of people, you spot a table with six girls.  They start to giggle as you look their way.  They definitely aren’t laughing at you because today you wore you Wittenberg Athletics crew-neck sweatshirt, you blend right in.  You recognize one of them as the girl your buddy was studying with until 6am.  Not cool, did he think you wanted to play Madden ‘09 alone until that time?  All of a sudden a hand shoots up in the air, and you spot your friends, as you set your food down at their table they are all giving you a weird look.

“What?” You say.

“Dude, you forgot to bring over the hot sauce,” they fire back.  Welcome to the CDR.

As you make your way back to the front, to the condiment table, you see there is no hot sauce in site.  Those fraternity guys must have taken it to their table, and you have to go get it back.  Normally this would be a daunting task for the average student, but it just so happens you wore your fraternity letters underneath your beloved sweatshirt.  They know perfectly well who you are.  You make your way over to their table and ask to borrow the hot sauce, as the tall muscular one pours one last drop onto his pizza you see the bottle run out.  Today isn’t your day.

Making your way back to your table, a hand grabs your side.  “Hey,” the girl says to you. You definitely recognize her from somewhere.

“Hey,” you reply. But you definitely don’t know from where, or have any idea what her name is.

“Why didn’t you call?”  She says.

As your mind wanders and you search for an answer.  You respond by saying, “I had a big Biology test this week.”  The problem is, you know this is a lie because you dropped that class for an easier science course to fulfill your Gen Ed.

“Ok, well we should try to get that group project done for psychology before the weekend.”  Right, she is in your group for class.  Doesn’t she realize you have to get level 70 on Modern Warfare 2 by the end of the week?

You tell her you will get back to her when you check out your schedule, but she doesn’t seem convinced.  That’s her loss.  Little does she know your buddy did this project last semester and has all of the answers leftover.  It’s a good thing they change the curriculum once every decade.

You make it back to the table without any further distractions, except this time your buddies are giving you a strange look, again.  You are frustrated and don’t want to explain the hot sauce situation, so you dig into your food.  You look up and they are still staring at you.  Really?

“Who was that girl you were talking to,” one asks, as they all erupt in laughter.

“Just some girl from psych,” you reply.

As you look back, you realize who that girl is.  She dated your old roommate who dropped out of school, undesirable.  That’s when it settles in, this is the CDR, and everyone saw you talking to her. Your life is ruined, but not for long.