The Corner Bodo's

Oh no. It’s Saturday morning.

The Corner Bodo’s is surrounded. Every UVA student within a five-mile radius has converged here, clad in hoodies, pajama pants, and sunglasses they don’t deserve. The air smells of hangovers, iced coffee, and Axe body spray.

The line is not merely long. It has achieved mythic proportions — spiraling around the building twice, crossing itself like a Möbius strip, doubling back into eternity. Somewhere in the distance, a lost first-year still clutching an orientation packet is heard asking, “Is this the line?”

You shuffle forward. Minutes become hours. Your phone dies. Conversations around you loop like broken records:

• “What’s your major?”

• “Where are you from?”

• “Wait, do they toast bagels here?”

By the time you reach the front, your hair has gone gray. A cashier regards you with pity. You are no longer hungry. You are simply older.

The bagel is close enough to smell, but not to taste. You are trapped.

Try Again?