Guest Blogger Cassandra praised the quality of the food offered by the resident chefs of the Roger Revelle. The chow is good, veritas, but in my post I am concerned not with the taste of food but with the politics of eating it. I will analyze daily meals from a political scientist’s point of view mainly because I just took a class on the subject, and also because I did very poorly in the class. I’m appeasing my guilty conscience... plus, who knows, maybe it’ll be fun tackling meals with rational choice theory, heresthetics, and the Gibbard-Satterthwaite Theorem on my side!
There are two categories of people on this boat: the chefs and the non-chefs. Some of the non-chefs occasionally prepare their own snacks and drinks, but I classify them as non-chefs because they are not paid to cook. Being paid to cook, in my most humble opinion, opinion though it may be, is the definition of being a chef. Not being paid to cook is illegal.
Meals proceed as follows: first, our two chefs, Dax and Ding, prepare the meal. I don’t know if those are their real names, but that’s what I call them anyway. Possible comedy! Second, the fifty-odd non-chefs line up, fill their plates buffet-style, and sit down to eat. Third, the non-chefs eat their meal. Fourth, the non-chefs bus their dishes and thank the chefs.
Ok, I think I’ll take a nap now, I’m sort of tired :(
Napping
To be honest, I find napping a lot more fun than politically sciencing. There are few things more satisfying than a gaping, sucking yawn, one of those big big yawns that, after yawning, induces a second, smaller aftershock-yawn. Example: YAAAWWWN - yawwn. Or: yaw—yaw... yawww--- huhhhh... YAWWWWWN Yawn smack smack hup! ... And then, after the body is loose and soft, there’s nothing quite like flopping over and closing one’s eyes. It is in that brief state of post-yawn and pre-nap flop that many of the world’s mysteries reveal themselves--the meaning of life and all that--and it is during the subsequent nap stage that all that burdensome bunk is forgotten. Hup!
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5 comments:
Dan,
When you said that you were going to write about the politics of the mess room, I assumed you'd write something of substance, despite the fact that Pien clearly warned me you're post was shallow. The mess hall itself is a place one must learn to navigate.
The chefs, because of their extreme importance on the ship, must be won over as soon as possible. Hence, when the food was loaded on board, we were there to hlp load, and when it was discovered when the order was wrong, we were there to unload, and the next day, we were there again to load the correct shipment of food onto the ship. Luckily, there has been no more offloading. Then, one must be careful never to cut in front of a hungry sailor- especially not our crew since theyve been working like crazy to get everything ready for our departure tomorrow. The meal times must also be strictly obeyed- who wants to show up to get yesterday's leftovers because they overslept ? Finally, since there isn't room in the mess hall for everyone to eat at once- so we have been warned to keep conversations to other places and not take our time over our meals. This in itself is sad since the meals are so good- despite being served cafeteria style- the food is anything but. It would make an interesting anthropological or political study- since meals are the most important human social event. Everything we do is centered around food- and we are limited in our meal-time socialization. That, Dan, would have made a better post.
Also, Dan has dandruff.
Dan... why don't you shower?!?!?!?!?!
Dan... take a shower!!!! You smell and you're gross!
Hey hey if Dan doesn't wanna shower leave him be. I don't shower on a weekly basis. Don't worry Dan, Cassandra is a hypocrite. I rarely shower because I like to conserve, and she has no problem with that, or she hasn't expressed one yet verbally or by way of disgusted facial expression.
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