when you're a
kid, a little
decadence is plenty. you may want a
bike, or a
life sized doll that speaks, or one of those
power wheels things, but to make you happy, it doesn't take a lot. your parents'
affection, being allowed to run around with your friends,
cartoons on
saturday morning, and some
bland american junk food. and so we get
celebrations based around
root beer (or another
pop of the celebrated child's choosing) and
pizza. remember the
oldschool pizza parlors of days gone by? the low-hanging lamps,
pac man and
ms. pac man standing side by side, tables covered in
canadian bacon and pineapple or
pepperoni pizza, pitchers of soda, plastic plates and cups, and greasy, crumpled napkins.
small wonder that the default
meal of choice among
college students is so often
beer (because we're so much more
sophisticated now) and pizza. you're alone, there are
no rules, and for a while, decadence prevails. you want to be a
lost boy, you want to test the waters again, prove to yourself that the
limits you learned as a child are gone. no one will chastise you for eating beer and pizza every night - you'll probably have more friends ('friends') because of it. but sooner or later the
magic disappears. you're left with pizza boxes and beer bottles strewn all over your floor for the third or fourth night in a week and beer and pizza changes. once in a while, it's still
wonderful, maybe even still a
staple. but
the thrill is gone.