I condemn Gloria Jeans. (Silvia)

     Ever since I hit uni, I have been eating like a bear about to enter hibernation. But being an unemployed uni student, money is a luxury and I usually end up with my head hanging in shame as train passengers look around for the source of the loud, grumbling noises. So when my mum handed me twenty bucks for lunch, I almost burst into tears.

     After nodding off several times and having Bez poke me once, we emerged from the 8am biology lecture and staggered to Melbourne Central for breakfast. Bez bought a Mcmuffin and hotcakes from McDonalds and I decided to treat myself to an Arnott’s Tim Tam from Gloria Jeans.
     When I buy items, if at all, I usually head in a straight line for the cheapest option: maybe a bottle of water or a can of coke to accompany a bucket of steamed rice and curry chicken. But having twenty bucks handed to me on a silver platter, I splurged and spent $5.70 on the drink. For anyone else, it would have been acceptable and a nice little treat. But for me, because it was me, it was a complete disaster.

     After heading back to Melbourne uni for Bez’s lecture, I sat comfortably in the lush, purple seats but quickly found that the desk refused to fold out. Slightly annoyed, I set my drink on the floor and wrestled with the stubborn piece of wood. It squeaked and it protested like a feral rat in human hands but I finally forced it into submission and it flipped out.
     Hoorah! I thought gleefully. A win for me!
     Smiling smugly, I bent down to pick up my drink. It was a frozen drink and you know when you have cold drinks, water appears on the outside and makes it slippery? Well, the cup slipped from my fingers. It hit the ground and EXPLODED. Chocolate and Tim Tam crumbs splattered on me, on the surrounding seats and up in the air. Good thing there was no-one sitting around me. But I was surround by chocolate stains within a one metre radius.
     I closed my eyes and willed that it was just a hallucination. I opened my eyes and… nope, there it was, a pile of brown on the ground. Sighing, I pulled out a packet of tissues and began the clean-up of shame. I had nearly spilled Bez’s hot chocolate this morning- and it was because of a desk as well! Today was just not my day.
     “Don’t worry about it,” Bez snickered. I could tell she was enjoying my humiliation just a bit too much. “We’ll leave early. Besides, that’s what the cleaners are for.”
     A great idea, but I felt too guilty. Besides, if we left early we might just draw more attention to ourselves and that was something I did not need.
     I couldn’t reach some of the spill and I was reluctant to get out of my seat and clean it up- in front of the lecture threatre of a hundred or so people, so I left it till the end.
     “Hey,” Bez whispered, “you know how the lecturer paces as she talks? She keeps looking at you when she walks over here. I think she can see the spill.”
     I nodded and slunk lower into my seat, trying to hide my eyes with the palm of my hand. The lecturer’s piercing gaze was chilling and it was impossible to miss her hawk-eyes flicker from the puddle of chocolate by my feet, up to my face and up to the roof as her lip curled in contempt.
     I almost cried in relief when the hour was up and she dismissed the theatre.
     “Okay, that’s it for today, have a good weekend,” the lecturer finished.
     “Oh my god, did you see that?” Bez laughed, nudging me. “She totally glared at you when she said that!”
     Actually, I was too busy looking at the resultant mess and wondering if I had enough tissues, though I did feel a shiver slither down my spine. So that was the reason!
     “Uh, hey Bez? It might be easier to clean up now,” I said sheepishly. “The carpet’s soaked up all the liquid and only the cookie crumbs are left.”
     Bez peered at it and cried, “Ew, that looks disgusting!”
     I agreed with her- it looked like someone had vomited brown mush. Not a nice sight.
     I got down on my hands and knees and began wiping up the leftovers, inhaling as I did so.
     “Mmm,” I said with my eyes closed. “It smells like chocolate now… uh-oh, the carpet’s stained.”
     Bez rolled her eyes and flicked her hand me dismissively. “Just leave it for the cleaners! Besides, it was your first time, so you can get away with it.”
     I grimaced at my sticky fingers and picked up the cup, straw and spoon. “Yeah, let’s go. I don’t think I should crash your lectures for a while, your lecturer hates me now!”

     Now I understand why they hate food and drink in theatres. It’s because of the shoddy woodwork and small, cramped spaces that’ll make you drop your sandwich or spill your chocolate. Lesson learned, never ever again!

     ~Silvia