I have 10 minutes between two classes, and the chances that I will collapse into a pile of limbs, loose-leaf papers, and textbooks are worryingly high. I need a familiarly branded coffee as I run from West Mall Centre to the far side of the AQ. There should be no problem, because the Tim Hortons is there. But this campus is so full of people who need their caffeinated bean-juice and cream-cheese-via-bagels to feel joy and keep going that all three line-ups are snaking across the cafeteria.
But wait, I don’t want a bagel, sandwich, or a blissfully delicious all-day breakfast menu item! I just want my coffee, and maybe a muffin if I’m feeling it, and then I’ll be on my way. And since everybody else wants potato wedges and iced lemonades and BLTs, the line for the express is blissfully short. I stumble down the stairs, fill my own cup of coffee like a grown-up, bag my muffin because that’s right, I deserve it, go chat with the lovely older employee who always runs the Tim Hortons Express (and who I genuinely hope is doing well), tap my debit card, and prance off to class fully reinvigorated.
There are dreams that cannot be, and there are storms we cannot weather. So what actually happens now that the express is closed is that I see the lines, gasp, and walk to class disappointed, uncaffeinated, and as incomplete as the Student Union Building. Because fuck no, I won’t be patronizing West Mall Express or whatever the sad little not-Tim-Hortons-Express stand in WMC is called.
