Hunger pains materialized at around 11PM tonight, so I decide to walk down to the Treehouse to pick up a burger, maybe a burrito. “Closed on Monday January 8 at 10:00 PM. The Treehouse will resume its regular hours on Tuesday” the sign reads. Late night is closed too. Goshdarnit!
I’m pretty hungry, so I go to the vending machine in West Flo. Stick in exactly $1.30, pushing in the green dollar bill in backwards, with the design printed on the vending machine door telling me to turn the bill around. The machine takes it anyway, and I have a flashing moment of temporary relief. A dime, then a nickel. Pale lights illuminate my haggard, hungry, expecting eyes as they follow the coil of the vending machine turn and release a cup of noodles, roast chicken flavor, into the receiving part.
Success, but only momentary. I deliberately walk on the catwalks back to the lounge, deliberately taking the longer route so that I can see what people are up to and to not have to open another door using my keys.
There’s no plastic forks in the kitchen, and I get annoyed, so I go to the sink and wash off a metal one.
Microwave time! Enough said.
I take it out of the microwave, mash around the noodles with my fork, and try to forget the awful chemicals that exist in the flavoring.
And it’s not that satisfying in the end. Not enough noodles, the flavoring is off-putting.
But there’s not much you can expect out of this. And I didn’t really.
That’s ok.
