It was with a bit of trepidation that I agreed to attend Hillel’s Soup n’ Solo Cups event. It wasn’t that the idea did not appeal to me. I just never thought these two worlds would collide. Like a good college student, I’ve played my fair share of beer pong. Like a good Jew, I’ve eaten my fair share of matzo ball soup. But combining the two? Never.
Frightening scenarios flashed through my head on the walk over to Hillel: Me, trapped as an unprepared contestant in a high-stakes soup-pong tournament, bringing the whole team down when I fail to make the final crucial point. Or, even worse: I, as the newbie, would be forced to drink everyone’s cups of lukewarm, unappetizing soup as a way of proving my dedication to the team, caught in an endless cycle of pong balls and bottomless soup cups.
These fears, however, were assuaged as soon as I walked into Hillel. In the front lounge, kids sat in front of the blaring TV screen, eating from steaming bowls of matzo ball soup while animatedly discussing the broadcasted basketball game. The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly, and the soup seemed even more appealing after coming from the freezing temperature outside.
I was quickly greeted by Rachel Zinn, the girl seated at the front desk and one of the organizers of the event. Maybe she noticed I felt a bit disoriented because, before I knew it, she was helping me find my way to the kitchen to receive my share of matzo ball deliciousness while somehow simultaneously introducing me to other Hillel-ers.
Though all the students there seemed to know each other, each made sure I felt included, which seemed to be the whole point of the event. Rachel mentioned Hillel has a social event like this monthly, and the idea for this particular one came about in a brainstorming session. “Everyone likes matzo ball soup,” she said, “especially when it gets cold.”
And to have said soup be homemade? A bonus. Though I wasn’t expecting to have matzo ball soup just like Bubbe makes it, it came pretty close. After socializing for a bit, I knew I had to confront the real challeng: pong.
At first I was comforted by the fact that each pong-table was totally empty, a ghost-town of vacant college drinking games. It seemed the other kids were just as intimidated by the game as I was. It was up to me to get things going.
After rallying together a half-hearted partner and opposing team, I suggested we first try the game using cups of water instead of soup. That way, we could have a practice round before taking off the training wheels and entering the big leagues. Sadly, the trial round did nothing to hide the fact that I am a terrible pong player. Even the non-threatening cups of water couldn’t distract from my lack of precision, focus and overall coordination.
Normally I’m embarrassed to showcase my skills (or lack thereof), but the other players were supportive, only throwing a few playful jabs. After finally getting some sort of rhythm, I felt ready to tackle the soup cups.
The first few plays went fine, meaning that neither side made it in. Eventually, however, my opponents landed a ball into a cup of murky soup, a lukewarm substance that was far more appealing when it had been initially laid out. After carefully examining the pong ball floating in the oily liquid, we all agreed that perhaps water was a more fitting (and sanitary) substitute. This life-decision was only further driven home when I pulled the pong ball out of the soup and traces of the broth clung to it.
While other groups might have decided this was a signal to call it a day, not Hillel. Everyone just laughed it off and kept on socializing, showing that perhaps the most important part of this Soup n’ Solo Cups event was neither the soup or the game, but rather the people that gathered around to play it.
