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Rya Inman / Senior Staff Photographer

Dear Koronet Pizza,

Sticky. Loud. Claustrophobic. Humid.

All adjectives that describe the atmosphere at Mel’s last Friday night (or maybe early Saturday morning, if we’re being sticklers for time here). Sweaty, drunk students crowded on the checkered floor, pressed up against each other in search of warmth, human connection, and momentary relief from Butler. My friends had dissipated into the mass of bodies, and I found myself once again surrounded by empty conversations and unfamiliar faces. I need to get out of here, I thought, as yet another pitcher of beer splashed onto my jeans.

Elbowing through the throng of people, I pushed open the door and stepped onto the sidewalk. Breathing in the brisk winter air, with the loud laughter and clamor behind me—that’s when I saw you. Or smelled you, to be more precise.

The aroma of freshly baked bread and sweet, sun-ripened tomatoes wafted past me. I’m not gonna lie, your tantalizing scent had my head spinning a little bit. I hadn’t originally planned to spend time with you, especially this late in the evening, but how could I resist the bright orange sign and cheery rainbow flags drawing me in?

I’d heard about you from other students. They had told me about your infamously large slices and late-night availability.

In a trance, I dizzily stumbled over to your glass cases. You had your giant, cheesy slices strategically arranged on the counter. You might’ve seemed innocuous and sweet from your simple orange exterior, but these slices were anything but. You knew exactly what you were doing, tempting and teasing me with that display.

Consumed by desire, I grabbed a cheesy triangle and took a seat. At that moment, all I could think about was saucy satisfaction. Sizzling hot, you were exactly what I was hungry for.

It was a brief ordeal. I came, I ate, I left. We had a fleeting moment of pleasure, after which I wiped my greasy fingers and headed back out into the cold. I know I could’ve stayed longer and grabbed another slice, but sometimes all you need is a quick fix.

If I ever need another cheap, cheesy comfort, I know I can come back to you. But in the meantime, I’ll be looking for something a little more sophisticated in flavor. They say that students here are so busy that they would rather spend a quick moment at Koronet’s at the end of the night than take time during the day to find a more sustainable option. Maybe I’m being unrealistic, but I’d like to find a pizza place that I can trust. I want to feel comfortable indulging somewhere on a more consistent basis.

I’m not sure if I can open up my stomach (and heart) to trust you with more of my time, but I’m glad I had you for the night. Thank you for that delicious late-night experience, and for being there exactly when hunger struck.



Campus sexual health resources:

Columbia/Barnard Sexual Violence Response Site

Barnard Well Woman

Staff writer Izzy Mollicone can be contacted at Follow Spectator on Twitter @ColumbiaSpec.

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