Satire: Line-cutting culture can’t be called rude, it is survival

12:39 p.m. Eyes glued to the clock, I hang onto every second, waiting for the ring of that sweet, satisfying bell. 58… 59…BEEEPPP! 12:40 p.m. The thunder of underclassman footsteps erupts as students burst out of their classroom seats, backpacks bouncing and shoes scraping on the concrete, their stomachs growling like predators hunting down their prey.

Alas, it’s lunchtime.

If this were three years ago, I would probably find myself in that same crowd of hungry, naive younglings — making a beeline to the cafeteria to fight for that first spot in line. But now? As a senior, I slowly and deliberately pack my things and meander coolly over to the lunch line. No rush. I know that first place is mine.

“Excuse me, just passing through,” I mutter to the freshmen as I weave myself through the people crowding around for taquitos and pizza. Do they think I’m new to this? Cutting the WHS lunch lines is part of my daily routine.

Why would I wait to get my teriyaki chicken and cookie when I could just as easily swoop in front of an unsuspecting student glued to their phone or talking to their friends? They didn’t notice the ginormous gap in front of them! You should always be alert. I know my behavior might be a teeny tiny inconvenience to my frustrated peers who are also fighting to get lunch, but I simply have no time to waste. I sneakily squeeze into the space, and what was originally 20 people in front of me has been reduced to only two before I can finally feast.

Before you come for me, I wasn’t always like this. Freshman year me waited my turn like the good kid I was. Even thinking about committing such a heinous crime like line-cutting was preposterous to me. But just like Enlightenment thinker John Locke once emphasized, our minds are blank slates upon which experience writes. I’ve never heard something so true. I am a line-cutter because I was once the “line-cutted.”

I cannot even count how many times I myself have been cut in line by upperclassmen, no mercy spared for a poor girl just trying to get her nutrition for the day. You may ask, “Why didn’t you just tell them to stop?” But in high school, choosing to escalate a situation with a senior double your size may not be the smartest move for a kid fresh out of middle school. I finally realized that the only way for me to survive in this cruel cafeteria world was to fight. No weakness. No hesitation. Just bold, merciless line-cutting.

Do I feel bad for cutting the line sometimes? I guess. But usually the grumbling sounds in my stomach drown out my morals. I often receive a few angry glares or mutters as a result of my criminal behavior. At the end of the day though, I would much rather assert my dominance and get lunch quickly than stay stuck in the forever non-moving lunch line. I often feel like a victim, not a villain, and I’m sure many other students at this school share this same feeling.

Besides, I’m not the only one at this school who regularly practices “line-cutting culture.” We’ve all done it once or twice to beat the hunger and the heat — and frankly? It’s not that hard to do it. What are supposed to be “single-file” lines look more like clumps of moving bodies randomly squirming around, unaware of their surroundings and who they are bumping into. There are also no poles or guidelines in sight to make the line more organized and the overall lunch-grabbing process more efficient. Even the ASB snack store has orange cones and tape to separate their different windows! Better organization of lunch lines is key to mitigating this food war, and I am certain that the cafeteria will be a far more peaceful environment as a result.

So before you go ahead and tell your average line-cutter to cut it out, perhaps reflect on what has led us to this point as a society. Yes, I may cut the line, but maybe we shouldn’t have to.