This is a warning: do NOT swipe into John Jay dining hall on a Sunday morning when you’re hungover. Just don’t.

Bwog loves the John Jay dining hall. We love it so much, ESPECIALLY for breakfast. The eggs have taste, the smoothies are the best thing to happen to us, and the chairs are nicely shaped for you to settle in, relax, and just vibe…

…But this is a warning: Do NOT go to John Jay Dining Hall on a Sunday morning. Just…fucking don’t. If you made questionable decisions (like going out three nights in a row), then here is why John Jay is fucking terrible on an otherwise lovely, sunny Sunday morning.

  • The Noises:
    • Why is John Jay the only dining hall open on a Sunday? Why must everyone be awake at noon on a Sunday? Why is the breakfast table the perfect place to unpack 20th-Century feminism, all while shouting at the man across the table to NOT give you his own account of the straight male brain? Why can I not collect the little thoughts I had left about last night in peace? Why must we blast early-2000s top 40 hits at THIS time of the day? Will I ever escape Bruno Mars on this cold, gross Sunday morning?
  • The Textures:
    • The corn beef hash just isn’t right for your poor, suffering, little mouth. As you attempt to take a bite with a weak stomach and weak morale, the mushiness – which is not mushy enough to swallow whole – ruins the entire, lovable experience of this classic midwestern dish. At this point, you either want a corn-beef soup, or just one, whole corned beef. Just not whatever you served yourself.
    • The smoothies are too cold and mushy! Your brain already hurts too much, but the delicious, fake-healthy, pureed fruits are making it worse! And there’s also too much in your cup for you to drink the whole thing. I just wanted a nice tomato basil soup!
    • The bagels are hard to chew because toasting them would make them too crunchy, and the crunch will ring in your ears until you finally reach the silence of your room to resume your slumber. Bad, bad texture for an otherwise delectable treat.
  • The Environment:
    • Are. No. Chairs. Sir, I am going to spill what little I have in my guts if you do NOT let me sit down immediately. I don’t care if your backpack can’t touch the floor, but I refuse to puke in a John Jay trashcan.
    • The fans. Those little bitches. I swear to God I WILL lose it if my peripheral vision is giving me motion sickness because the fans all decided to spin really fast. “Don’t look at them!” Fucking TRY to block them from my vision! You can’t! There are ten million fans, and my two, tired, little eyes can see ALL. OF. THEM.
    • Too many people wandering! Stop moving! Sit on the floor if you can’t find a seat! Just shut up and let me regrow my brain cell! She’s tired and dehydrated!

 

In conclusion, John Jay is a wonderful place for breakfast, but NOT when you can’t remember your Saturday night.

 

I Will Wage War Against the Fans via Bwog Archives