The Caesar wrap wasn't built in a day.

I had just sat down in the booths near the windows, slightly away from the mass of Korean students who had recently inundated the cafeteria and taken up most of the central seating. No bitterness here, the booths near the windows boast prime comfort for a college dining experience.

I was in the middle of eating my meager rations of pasta and cooked vegetables when it happened.

I opted out of waiting ten minutes in line to get to the Caesar wrap station (the Koreans had swarmed it, and I decided, having stood in line for about 0.23 seconds, that the wrap couldn't be that good, so I left to find a seat). I was lifting one of the red sauce noodles to my gaping mouth when my ears drew my eyes to cast their fertile gaze upon one particular Korean male having difficulty wrapping his wrap.

His wrap looked like this:

Pretty good, right? Except his face showed a look of premier puzzlement.

He held the wrap delicately aloft, folding and unfolding the edges of the tortilla back and forth from flat to STAGE 1, without making any progress. His visage confused, his pre-consumption process stymied, he called for help. I felt for him, as I too, have had similar difficulties in later stages of the Caesar wrap wrapping process.

A friendly Korean girl at the adjacent table gave him a word of advice.

He leaned over his wrap, exerting a moment of concentration, vainly pulling the edges together as he had before, but to no avail. Instantly, the friendly girl smiled and got up from her seat, walked over, leaned in, and folded the edges, one inside of the other. The young man practically beamed with joy, and he thanked her profusely as she made her way back to her own lunch.

He finally had conquered the Caesar wrap wrapping process!

With one confident flourish, he picked up the burrito, folded it in half lengthwise, squishing the mass of tortilla, meat, and lettuce into a U-shape...

He raised the maligned creation high above his head, craned his neck backwards, and gleefully attacked the previously obstinate morsel:

Eating it from the bottom, up.

THE MORAL OF THE STORY

Life's problems don't always have to be solved "the right way," so long as the wrap doesn't drip and the stomach stays happy.

Cultural Differences

The lounge smelled not sweaty for a change. Some forward thinking individual had propped the front double doors open to let in the (finally) cooler air of post-sundown summer evenings. I walked in from the hallway leading to the guy’s dorms, letting my bare feet enjoy their freedom from the balmy clutches of rubber flip-flops I’d worn all day. I slowed as I entered, taking time to attempt observing and categorizing all the activity in the normally sparsely populated area. Marlene and Kyle, two RA’s for the recently arrived South Korean students, were playing pool, with two nearby groups of people idly watching and chatting back and forth. Other RA’s for the “CELE” program were scattered about the dorm lounge, on couches or chairs, chatting with small groups of foreign students—both parties relaxing from the day’s outings to local attractions.

            I stopped near the pool table to watch Marlene line up her shot, smiling to myself as she made some little comment about being bad at pool. From the left, where I’d just entered, Kevin walked in, then leaned on the table, soliciting Marlene’s attention. He spoke haltingly at first, as if not sure how to phrase his intended speech, but making it up as he went along.

            “Marlene, I have a joke for you.” He said, a knowing grin half-formed on his face.

            Marlene eyed him suspiciously, aware of his habit of occasionally saying things outside the realm of what most would deem “politically correct.”

            “Yes?” she answered hesitantly, prolonging the reply to show her wariness.

            Kevin began, “Four Asian foreign exchange students walk into a laundry room—“ Marlene and the others gathered around, listening, made various snorts, laughs, or cries of disapproval. I thought, “Uh-oh, I hope this doesn't get inappropriate.” I’m sure the other RA’s were thinking much the same thing and eyeing the Koreans elsewhere in the room to see if they would hear. Those chosen to be RA’s for the two-week long camps of 100+ foreign students were apparently mindful of not offending those they were hosting.

            The pool game was nearing its close, but Marlene shut it down early in mock protest to Kevin’s impending joke, which she and many others were sure would breech cultural etiquette. She grabbed the three remaining balls on the table and pulled them into the pocket nearest her, then turned slightly away from the undeterred Kevin.

            “No, no, wait.” He implored.

            We, the onlookers, resettled ourselves when Marlene turned back, her freckled face set in a resigned, “If I must,” attitude. He continued:

            “Four foreign exchange students—four Korean guys—walk into a laundry room, fully clothed. Three of them walk out only wearing underwear and the fourth walks out wearing underwear on his head.”

            Laughter erupted from a few of us, some exclaiming, “What?” even as they giggled at the comical mental image. Kevin, muted, spoke something to Marlene that I missed hearing, but it must have amounted to, “No, that really happened, just now.” More laughter erupted from our group. The Koreans had only been here a few days before the appearance of the type of shenanigans one can only chalk up to a foreign mindset. Nick, one of the nearby RA’s, strode forward quickly, asking Kevin to clarify when it had happened.

“Just now!” Kevin replied adamantly, laughing.

I watched Nick bolt downstairs to the laundry room (which both guys and girls used, hence his anxious haste), while I walked up the stairs to my room, chuckling to myself and thinking, mirthfully, “Ahh, cultural differences!”