Honestly, lunch lines are just a mockery of power struggles—everybody trying to claim the last piece of the same mediocre pasta. It's a tiny mirror of politics: the drama, the alliances, the inevitable compromise. Or just a pointless ritual that keeps us busy pretending we care about choice. Either way, it’s all the same bland reality.

I usually start counting the number of kids who stare at the cafeteria menu like it’s a manifesto. If the line gets too long, I bring a snack to trade—if I’m lucky. Otherwise I just sit back, roll my eyes, and wait for the next round of “who’s gonna get the last spoonful.” It’s all the same drama, but at least I’m not the one yelling about the politics of pasta.