Freshman Suffering from Ramen Saturation Tries Udon, Meets God
Monotony is one of the most challenging forces with which college students must combat during their first steps into the excruciating experience that is adulthood. No one knows this better than the elusive meal-planless freshman, whose diet subsists entirely on the cheapest, unhealthiest, sodium-est staple food that every American loves: instant ramen. One such poor sods, Miles Frumhaum, decided that he was going to break the cycle and branch out into the highly contrasting and extremely distinct culinary realm of udon noodles, which he purchased from Bento Cafe on West Tennessee St. The unsuspecting child knew not what he was in for.
“When I took my first bite it was like the sky above me parted and the world around me became so much brighter. I don’t think the word 'epiphany' does this story justice,” recalled Frumhaum as he slowly rubbed his face at the pure joy of the memory. “There was something just so distinct about the texture and savory richness that separated that elegant udon from the 39¢ pack of ramen I got from a vending machine on campus. Honestly, as someone who hasn't seen a vegetable in about four months, the mere presence of defrosted broccoli just sent me into a state of spiritual transcendence. I don’t think my eyes have been opened this widely since I took Mythology East and West last fall, and my professor told us that there were more ancient religions in the world than what was in the Percy Jackson books. When the broth and noodles slid down my throat, the visions I got were nothing short of divine.”
“Yeah, the weirdo mortal just appeared before us making really uncomfortably sexual noises with its bowl of noodles,” explained Inari Ōkami, Shinto deity of rice and agriculture, whom Frumhaum encountered during his journey. “The sloppy ingrate for some reason thought that the sad excuse for a dish in front of him – which was not even made with real Katsuoboshi – was some sort of holy libation. When you’ve only been eating a fried wood block dipped in hot salt water, anything would seem like a step up. Once it noticed us, the mortal just stood there, wide-eyed, continuing to shovel the MSG-laden stir-fry down into its mouth.”
Despite the undoubtedly life-changing experience, Frumhaum’s insistence on buying Rae Sremmurd tickets instead of food will likely prevent him from availing himself of the $9.50 udon bowl again any time soon. He will always cherish the memory, however, of the best meal money can buy and the world-shattering awakening of meeting an actual Kami in the flesh – at least until he goes home for Thanksgiving.