- You walk into Chef Mike’s, and you are immediately embraced by the delectable scent of deli meat. You approach the lady with the iPad, ready to swipe your ID. If you try to speed-walk past her, go to part 2. If you use a meal swipe, go to part 3.
- You make a run for the soup line as she looks away, but she catches you, and now you’re being publicly berated by the staff as econ students point at you and chuckle. If you decide to turn around and say “Oh, sorry, this is my first time on the meal plan,” as you swipe yourself in, go to part 3. If you decide to make a run for it regardless, go to part 17.
- You have to decide if you’re going to build your own sandwich or grab a premade one. If you settle for a grab-n-go sub, go to part 6. If you decide to build your own, go to part 12.
- Really? What are you, insane? Go to part 16.
- Classic. It’s simple, kinda mid, but it gets the job done. If you start walking to the dining area in the back, turn to part 15. If you grab a take-out lid, shove your food in your backpack, and head to your dorm, turn to part 13.
- You walk to the premade sandwiches, sneering at those suckers waiting in line, and take a look at the options. You notice there are only a few sandwiches left, and suddenly, you worry about whether these sandwiches are less fresh. If you say to yourself, “Eh, whatever, I’ve eaten John Jay fruit,” and grab an old sandwich, turn to part 11. If you decide to walk up to the counter for a fresh hoagie, turn to part 14.
- It may be kinda nasty, but fuck it, there’s a donut somewhere under those layers of melted frosting. Now you have to grab some soup. If you get the chicken noodle soup, turn to part 5. If you get the Italian wedding soup, turn-a to-a part-a 9-a!
- Good call. You’re gonna inhale those Cheetos, and now you need to get a dessert. If you grab a mangled chocolate-frosted donut, turn to part 7. If you grab one of the black and white cookies, go to part 10.
- You find an eyeball in your soup. Holy shit! It’s the rest of the remains of Chef Mike’s Grandma! If you decide to let the world know of this injustice, turn to part 18, and if you decide, “Meh, more protein. I needed this anyways,” turn to part 4.
- The black and white cookie is excellent, possibly the best you’ve ever had. You take the first bite, savoring it. It reminds you of your childhood. It sends you to heaven. You take the next bite and realize this cookie is actually not that good, it just has more sugar than the FDA’s recommended weekly intake.
- After grabbing a slightly old, slightly mushy hot special, you head towards the chip station. They have those Baked Cheetos that you know you don’t really like, but you know you’ll probably devour them anyway later tonight when you’re doing your p-sets. If you take five bags of Cheetos and pray that Chef Mike doesn’t see, turn to part 8. If you politely grab one bag, turn to part 4.
- You turn towards the build-your-own station, but while you debate what to order, a slew of philosophy students form a massive line and start arguing loudly about the categorical imperative. You realize that it is imperative to go back to part 3.
- You and your lovingly-wrapped sandwich head back to your dorm. As you saunter past the giant corkscrew statue, you suddenly remember that you have Zoom class, and this will be the perfect time to cram this food down your gullet with your screen off while you listen to your CC professor drone on about Bentham. As you shovel the Cheetos down and nosh on the old-but-still-piping-hot sandwich, you think to yourself, “Yeah. I made the right choice not to trek all the way to Grace Dodge.” Good job!
- You walk up to the hot sandwich line. After an uncomfortable amount of time of being the only person in line, you muster the courage to ask the person behind the counter if you can get a sandwich. They ask if you want the vegetarian option, and you say no. They look at you strangely and say, “There are hot sandwiches back there near the entrance. Why did you come here?” You’re mortified. Turn to part 16.
- You sit in the Chef Mike’s dining area, all by yourself, at a round table that seats fifteen. All of a sudden, as you glance up at the clocks that tell you what time it is in Tokyo for some reason, you realize with horror that your CC professor rescheduled class on a Zoom that is definitely taking place RIGHT NOW. Damn. You fucked that up. Turn to part 16.
- You’ve failed. It wasn’t worth a meal swipe. You run to Uris Library, where your tears will be drowned out by the sound of group project conversations. Perhaps tomorrow will be your day.
- You sprint towards the dessert counter, insistent on getting at least one thing from Chef Mike’s for free before the iPad lady calls campus security on you. The first thing you see is a giant black and white cookie, and you realize you aren’t going to make it out of Uris with an unwieldy sub. Do you take the cookie? If yes, turn to part 10. If not, turn to part 16.
- You submit your expose to the Spectator, already picturing the NYT internship you are sure to land once Chef Mike’s crimes are exposed to the world. But you get a swift email response: “This is so funny haha but unfortunately we only publish real accredited news. Try submitting this to the Columbia Federalist!”