I left the package center yesterday with a friend who would ordinarily eat me, but actually turned out to be pretty chill.
Getting a package between classes seems convenient in theory, but always results in being a pain. Why? Because literally everyone else in the Diana thinks that they too can just dash down to the basement and grab their latest Amazon expenditure without it taking a whole ass hour. I play myself every time, making it to the basement moments after everyone else has had the same bright idea. Yesterday was no exception; by the time I got there, the line was snaking around Altschul. My next class was canceled though, so I wasn’t as frustrated as the rest of my line-mates. While they sighed and rubbernecked the afternoon away, I pulled out my headphones for some Toro y Moi.
The line hadn’t moved at all for several minutes, while usually a common expectation for an afternoon in the package center, something seemed off. I took out one headphone and heard it. I couldn’t believe my ears. Could it really be…… on this fine Monday afternoon…….. that there was a GORILLA in the package center? I couldn’t help it– I craned my next to get a view of what was behind the yellow desk. A screaming six-foot-tall cardboard box violently shook back and forth. I almost wanted to believe one of the workers was playing a joke on us, or that the box was alive. But I knew better. There was a gorilla in that box!
“Who ordered a gorilla to Altschul!!!!” One of the workers exclaimed. The recipient was probably waiting until a full hour had passed after her email notification. But the wait time from the end of the line was about 45 minutes, so I guess it was a fair question. Regardless, no one responded. The gorilla’s screams grew more frantic. Poor girl. It’s probably really hot in there.
As the workers scrambled to create a plan of action, the students began to put more pressure on them. “I need to get my book for my 4:10,” one student said. “Well, I need to get my bowl for 4:20,” another complained. A riot formed as the impatient students whined about problems that were probably a fraction of the severity of dealing with a live gorilla on the job. Moments later, the box began to rip. “She’s coming out!!” shouted one of the workers. Both the students and the employees began to stampede toward the door. Disappointed that I wasn’t going to be able to retrieve my moisturizer until tomorrow, I, too, reluctantly began to head toward the exit. But as I did, she caught my eye. A spark dazzled in my heart, and I’m fairly certain something struck her as well. A sort of instantaneous bond was formed between us, and instead of making my way over to the door, we made our ways to each other.
“Hi, I’m Amara,” I said. “My name is McChicken; nice to meet you.” I asked her about her trip and she said that it sucked. “Do you want to go to Shake Shack?” I asked. “Yeah,” she said.