For whatever the reason, sometimes you can’t go home for Turkey Day. You’re forced to grab a container of Student Center Sushi (Stushi, if you really hate yourself) and wander campus alone, searching for a place to metaphorically break bread.
Here are the ten saddest places you can eat your pathetic Thanksgiving dinner alone at DePaul:
10.) In Front of a Campus Map:
DePaul’s Lincoln Park campus is basically two blocks of buildings. Looking at a campus map to plan a meal alone is sadder than crying because you know the highlight of the Whole Foods vitamin woman’s week is her one glass of wine at knitting club and that makes you feel every feeling.
9.) Student Center Bathroom:
Congratulations, you’re back where friendless middle schoolers hid during recess. How does it feel to instantaneously regress back to being thirteen years old? Do you have braces now too, or just a light dollop of body dysmorphia? This is gross.
8.) Brownstones’ Booth:
The booth section in Brownstones is DePaul’s flimsy excuse for an eclectic dining atmosphere. If sitting there wasn’t strange enough, you can’t take a booth for one person. Who are you supposed to look at? That’s so much room you don’t need! It emphasizes your loneliness by a million. You look like you’re waiting for the rest of your party that will never come.
7.) The Statue:
You found other humans! People are actually here still! But wait, no one is looking at you. This guy wearing headphones next to you doesn’t even notice you offering him a roll. Are you dead? Seriously, are you a ghost? Maybe that’s why he is ignoring you. That would definitely explain some things, but not all things. Check back in later.
6.) Arts and Letters Window Seats:
This area has the superficial coziness you’re craving, but minus all of the people to talk to. Take a big bite of tuna and feel sad. It’s like how pop stars sometimes sing a ballad about feeling alone in a crowded room, but you’re alone in an empty building.
5.) Computer Lab:
Venture into the computer lab, where the two people in there pretend you don’t exist (or maybe you’re Sixth Sense-ing it…?). Google conversations you normally have at Thanksgiving, because at this point the only interaction you have is with a search engine. Take a moment to really, really miss Ask Jeeves. At least he was cordial.
4.) Levan Lecture Hall:
Looking for a surge of authority and power, you wander in to an empty lecture room, saved for Communications 101 and sorority chapter meetings. Sit in front of the room. No one’s stopping you, because no one is here! Tentatively test your voice to make sure it still works. It’s been so long since you’ve spoken aloud, what does it feel like to speak? The closest you have to a conversation is the acoustic echo of the empty room.
3.) SAC Vending Machine:
Ah, dessert for one. Spend as much time as you want deciding on your candy. No need to share. There is no line behind you, not tonight! The immensity of this decision is too much, so you resolve to come back later when you feel more ready.
2.) ID Services:
Maybe someone will wander in and need a new DePaul ID printed. Hope exists in ID Services. You can casually start a conversation and maybe make a new friend. Wouldn’t that feel nice? Maybe they will circle back to the vending machine with you and help choose dessert! Just wait. Wait and hope, even though you know in your heart no one is coming.
1.) Library Aisle:
Contemplate a life of crime. There’s nothing else to do.
Eating Thanksgiving dinner alone is sad, but there’s not even anyone around you to feel sorry for you. That job is all for yourself. Wallow in self-pity and accidentally get some wasabi in your eye. That’ll get you crying. Maybe next year will be different, but probably not.
Need a break from the treachery that is daily life? Listen to our podcast!