I had to tell someone. 

I’m an impulsive person. I really am. Listen, I know you don’t necessarily need a car in college. Especially in New York, of all places. Especially when it’s not a car you want but a campus-owned global eats food truck with rave reviews. 

I’m an impulsive person, but I’m also a repenter, and I’m consumed by guilt like a moth-bitten sweater. So I had to tell someone. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to confess my crimes to Public Safety or the NYPD. Wait—do y’all think stealing the Fac Shack constitutes grand larceny? Is that a felony? 

Listen, what was I supposed to do. I live in Wien. I’m in a tiny dark corridor single with my bed suffocated between two walls. All of my friends live in a suite in Carlton Arms. I was lonely and pissed. And wanted a car. 

It’s been a long, hard summer, living at home sleeping until noon every day and playing The Sims until three in the morning. My twin siblings finally turned sixteen, so I had to share my yellow Volkswagen Beetle with them. Fucking cunts. 

It’s not easy, moving here from my suburban Connecticut neighborhood with an average family income of $450,000. I have to live in a 112 sq. ft. room. I have to use a communal bathroom, where, by the way, I found five long pubes in the urinal this morning. Last year I had a dingle in Hartley, thanks to my roommate luckily moving out. So I’m not sure why I got downgraded as a sophomore. 

I know the previous paragraph was probably controversial. I’m sorry. But look, it really is hard! Imagine yourself in my position. I grew up in what I assume is probably an upper middle class household, which is relatively comfortable, and then have to live somewhere like Wien. For people who have grown up living a Wien sort of life, it’s not that much of a change. But me? I’m not used to this. It’s a drastic drop in quality of life. I tried appealing to Disability Services for an upgrade due to my minor dust allergy, but unfortunately they don’t accept appeals at this point in the year. Even though I have a note from my concierge doctor. Fucking cunts. 

Excuse me for having a mental breakdown. Excuse me for suffering mental illness. It happens to people, you know. This is a hard school to attend! My art history lecture is a weed-out class! People need to afford more sympathy here. You never know what someone is going through. You never know how small someone’s room is, how many pubes are in their communal bathroom. It’s rough out here. 

So I lashed out. Oh, screw me, screw me, I’m sure you’ll say. Maybe I shouldn’t have committed grand larceny. But have you ever considered maybe there was no other option? That maybe it was my only way out? As a member of the John Jay Debate Society, I’m well acquainted with political and moral philosophy. Sometimes the most utilitarian choice is to do whatever the fuck you want. 

You can’t imagine the temptation I’ve felt the past week, seeing the lustrous shine on the marvelous vehicle glistening outside my window. The smells of the palak paneer waft up through my window, causing me to do very naughty, slightly illegal things. 

It wasn’t that hard. I didn’t even do it at night. Right before it opened at 11 a.m., when there was already a twenty-person line creeping along the courtyard, I just took it. Of course, it’s not normally hooked up to anything. But there was an empty Public Safety vehicle parked nearby with the engine still running. Naturally, I got in the car, pulled into reverse, hooked up the vehicle, and drove away. Sure, the students waiting for lunch looked confused. Some took pictures. But most were too sleepy to notice I was doing anything prohibited. I’ve learned throughout my time at a prestigious private boarding school that if you act with enough confidence, you can do whatever you want. 

The Public Safety officer whose car I stole even approached me as I was driving away with the Fac Shack, asking me what I was doing. I just told them I was authorized with the University and to call a phone number I made up on the spot if they had any concerns. I even apologized for the inconvenience—the Public Safety officer said, “It’s alright.” I wasn’t even wearing anything that looked remotely close to a uniform. I had a fucking Rick and Morty graphic tee on. 

After taking the Fac Shack, I did have some difficulties getting off campus. I’ve never driven a car with a food truck attached to it, so I did end up hitting many curbs and bushes. I didn’t know where the fuck to drive it so I just turned onto Morningside Dr. and headed south until I reached the Times Square KFC. I put the hazards on and got out, leaving the Fac Shack in the middle of the street. I bought a Spicy Chicken Sandwich Combo and ate it in the Shack. People honked and yelled, but nobody stopped me. Then I drove back up to campus, parked on Riverside, and went to my room for a nap. 

I’ve been doing this routine for a few days now. People definitely see the Public Safety vehicle and the Fac Shack parked by campus, but nobody cares. I’ve heard a few people mention its disappearance in passing, but I don’t expect anybody to file a police report for at least another twenty days. The only issue is that I don’t want to spend money on gas, and I don’t really feel like asking my parents for more money. I’ll probably just end up keeping the Fac Shack where it is and throw the keys at the bottom of some drawer in my room. It’s kind of gotten boring to me now anyways, and I really miss the smell of the food wafting up to my room. I don’t know. There’s not much else to do now.

My adventure via Author