The First Last-Resort

It's Friday or Saturday night. We getting out of a movie that we're embarrassed we paid to see or we're leaving from dinner after having an indigestible meal. If we're really not feeling like doing anything else at this point, our beds at home sound pretty appealing.

We're feeling like crap and literally cannot fathom doing anything else. Then, we realize something:

We still haven't had dessert.

We're as persistent as a mailman: Whether we feel miserable or the weather outside is a rotten mess, nothing can keep us away from going dessert at one special place.

We pull up to our spot, just left of the front door. We're either greeted by the lights inside or the smokers outside of the door. Inside, we walk past the decaying donuts, which lost the luster they once had in the wee hours of the day that are no longer there.

Sometimes, we want to take advantage of the deals there. We walk past the frail hot dogs, rolling up and down the grill's ramp, and aim toward the center aisle. All of our ice cream needs are in those frosted containers: Cookies & Cream, Cherry Cordial, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Turkish coffee and more; The possibilities are endless and we believe that our stomachs are too.

Our more traditional route starts at the counter. We stand there and contemplate our desires as an employee waits on us. There's sadness in his eyes that only those who have worked in restaurants and retail can understand. You relive your pain in just one glance.

The other employee is our go-to girl. She knows she's going to be miserable and doesn't hide it. Our first encounter with her will never be forgotten. We couldn't decide on what to get when we visited and let her know she could help the elderly women by us. The elderly woman was rather peculiar; my friend and I watched as she stuck radishes in a microwave meant for heating up to-go breakfast items. The employee turned to me and said in a failed, hushed tone, "I don't want to help her. She smells like dead leaves!"

Once we get our items, we rotate toward the magazine rack. Entertainment Weekly is a good browsing option while we devour our treat, but Animal Tales Magazine always claims victory. As we take the "What's your animal name?" quiz or look at the cutest dolphin photos, we realize how dorky we really are and continue to turn to the animal puns section.

Sometimes, we're watched by a stranger in the shadowy corner or we notice fellow student that will give in to their pork rinds craving. We also may eat too much or our ice cream might look like a lumpy, brown puddle, turning us off from taking another bite. But no matter what, we always walk out of that house-shaped building thinking, "That was an experience."

Bed can wait for a bit longer: The Clifton UDF is calling our name.