Given all the time that I must have spent in the Penn State cafeterias, I have very little memory of them. I do recall that the one at East Halls where I spent my first year at Pinchot Hall was quite modern, as it had just been built the year before.

But I have no memory of either the breakfast or lunch meals at that cafeteria. Perhaps I ate most of those meals by myself because my schedules didn’t sync up with anyone else’s, or perhaps the meals were just too variable.

But I do recall the evening meals that I usually shared with some combination of Mike, Tim, Ed, Gary, and Tony, plus whoever else might be around. I also recall that one of the main topics of conversation was frequently a particular co-ed who—I don’t think I can phrase this any more delicately—while she had one of those faces that could stop a clock, yet she was graced with a body that seemingly could only have been designed in heaven. The word was that she was a phys ed major, and there was much speculation around the table as to just what she could do with that heavenly wrought body if one could ever…well, I think you get the picture. I’m quite certain that much of the speculation entered into the realm of not just physically unlikely but anatomically impossible.

Hey, that’s what college boys used to talk about back then. I suspect they still do. I’m sure that co-eds discuss much loftier topics.

As far as the food served in the cafeteria, I have little to no memory. I think it was pretty much standard cafeteria food, no more, no less, though because I was now receiving all my meals there, I believe this may have been the beginning of a few cracks in my pickiness. My mother was not there to make a ham just because I wasn’t overly fond of turkey, for example.

When I moved to Mifflin Hall, our cafeteria was across the way in McElwain Hall, the co-ed’s dorm. It was definitely not as modern as the one in East Halls had been but it had a bit more character, a lot more wood for one thing. Also, and I may be misremembering this, but at East Halls we had to take our food trays to a window when we were finished with our meals, whereas at McElwain I believe we just left them on the tables and there was a staff member who came to clear them away.

We had an ID card with a number that allowed us to get into the cafeteria. We’d show the card as we walked in and there was someone at the door who would cross off our number on a paper. Well, one year there was a co-ed who was great with numbers and faces; she rapidly learned to associate our numbers with our faces and she’d be crossing off our numbers before we even showed her our card. Eventually we didn’t even get out our cards; saved us a bit of bother.

But all good things must end, or at least be abused, and as it happened, there were two entrances to the cafeteria, so some students were giving their cards to guests. Then they would come in the entrance with the clever co-ed and the guest would come in the other entrance and show the card. Obviously, this couldn’t go on, so the rule came down that we had to show our cards, no exceptions.

I remember breakfasts at McElwain, at least some of them. Perry Harris (you haven’t met him yet, but you will anon) used to insist that the breakfast eggs were giving him gas. He was the only person who complained about this. Somewhere around midday, we’d hear him rant, “I swear they must’ve pumped gas into those eggs this morning.” No one ever suggested that he change his preferred breakfast meal.

There was a fellow we called “Acid Tongue” for his propensity to call ’em like he saw ’em. One day shortly after that drinking incident, Connie was sitting at our table and trying to justify his actions. I tore into him and let him have it with both barrels. When Connie left, old “Acid Tongue” just shook his head. “Connie is so full of shit,” he said. He looked at me briefly, “You made an ass of yourself, of course. But Connie is full of it.” 

That was “Acid Tongue”. I wish I remembered his real name.