Ham and Cheese

I am taking twenty hours this semester. (every time I tell people that I feel like a martyr.) But I really am busier than I have ever been, sometimes too busy to eat, which for anyone knows me, is unheard of. Today I woke and began typing up and preparing for a presentation for my public relations class. After finishing, already late to meet my friend Sam to explicate poetry, I grabbed a Slim fast out of the fridge for lunch instead of making a sandwich. About eleven I popped the top on the slim fast, and was quickly reminded why I never went on the slim fast diet. I couldn't finish a fourth of the can before I tossed it in the garbage, thinking I would grab something for lunch between classes. As a presented my case study about Wal-Mart's new public relations campaign my hands shook, not from nerves, but from low blood sugar. (I didnt have the time between my spanish lab I thought I would.) As if my hypoglycemic episode wasn't enough I know the frat boy half asleep on the back row heard my stomach growling from the podium. I'm not the kind of person that can function without food. I looked at my watch and knew I didn't have time between classes to go back to my room for a bite, I don't carry my wallet to class, and I didn't put money on my school ID this year. I decided my only hope was to find someone in the hall I was close enough friends with to borrow some change for the vending machine. On a campus as small as mine I knew I would see someone...but I didn't. In a last desperate attempt I called my Friend Sam to see if he was still at the BCM. He was! "Sam, can you bring me something to eat? I don't think I can make it through literary style without something to eat. Anything will do, a teaspoon a peanut butter would be fine." He said he would bring me something. Three minutes before class began I started to get nervous. Sam was always early so the only reason he would be late would be because he was bringing me something to eat. I felt the guilt rising up in me. But the pangs in my stomach were stronger. 3:30 on the dot and Sam walked through the door. What was that in his hand? He thrust a tortilla at me. Studying it I saw what looked like Ham, cheese and mustard. "I got creative." he said. Sam walked over half a mile from the BCM with a tortilla in his hand, no napkin or zip lock bag to contain it. Just the flour tortilla flat against his hand on a hot September day. What a guy thing to do. What a sweet guy.