Saviors come in vast variety, ranging from your celebrity crush to the stranger who held the door open for you as the 37 distinct items perfectly perched in your arms began to slip. Staff Writer Chloe Gong divulges how her savior came through just in time.

It’s Thursday afternoon. 3:55 PM. I’ve just left a meeting with a professor in the engineering building, and there are exactly fifteen minutes left before I have to sit in a dingy classroom, pretending to be knowledgeable about an ancient Greek epic that people don’t even know who wrote. How am I supposed to read two books of the Iliad in the next fifteen minutes? I think. At the same time, my stomach rumbles in protest, yelling at me for only feeding it one banana—a single fucking banana!—this entire morning, since that was all I managed to grab from my fridge in my rush to get to class this morning. I groan. I’m gonna pass out in LitHum if I don’t eat something RIGHT NOW.

Just as I’m walking back to my dorm, grieving over how empty my fridge is, an image flashes into my head: a dainty white-and-orange cardboard box with only four sides, wrapped snugly around a cup-shaped foam container. In my mind’s eye, I see a vibrant blue label on the lower-right hand side of the box, with words imprinted in white: “NO ADDED MSG.”

The realization hits me like a truck. Of course! How could I have forgotten? A container of Cup Noodles is still sitting in my drawer, patiently waiting to be consumed.

I sprint up the stairs to my dorm, excitedly pull open the drawer, and there it is, staring lovingly back at me. After admiring the beautiful packaging for two seconds, I eagerly tear the cardboard apart and rip open the plastic. Just thinking about the springiness of the noodles and rich flavor of the hot soup is enough to make me salivate. But there’s no time for daydreaming. I check my phone—twelve minutes left.

Now for a quick “Cooking with Bwog” segment:

  1. Borrow a tea kettle from someone in your suite.
  2. Boil some water.
  3. Speedread a few pages of the Iliad while waiting.
  4. Panic because there are now only seven minutes left till class.
  5. Pull back the lid of the Cup Noodles and pour the boiling water into the cup up to the line.
  6. Close the lid by weighing it down with a fork (also borrowed, because I’m dumb and forgot to steal some utensils from Ferris).
  7. Let the noodles sit for three minutes.
  8. JK we don’t got time for that! Two minutes is sufficient.
  9. Enjoy!

The moment I open the lid, I am moved to tears—the scene I witness is so unbelievably beautiful.

A hot steam rises steadily out of the container, bringing the delicious aroma of noodles to my nostrils. Pieces of carrot and corn lie delicately on top of the thin, curly noodles, which are submerged in a light-brown-colored soup.

With not enough time to fully appreciate its dazzling appearance, I start slurping down the noodles, tears still streaming down my face. At my lowest moment, Cup Noodles brought me out of the abyss and back into the light.

I silently thank the Cup o’ Noodles for saving my life.

Then I grab my copy of the Iliad and rush out of the lounge door, with two minutes left before class and a stomach warm with soup.

the beauty herself via Wikimedia