It’s noon on Tuesday, and the cover story I assigned might not come in. I realize there is no way I can come up with a 2,000-word article in 24 hours. Panic-stricken, I’m taking any and all suggestions. A Daily staffer suggests I spend 24 hours at Burger King. I think she’s kidding. Then I realize it’s all I’ve got. So at 11 p.m., I head over, ready to spend the next day parked in a plastic chair observing any and everything BK’s got to offer. Except it’s Tuesday night, and I’m doubtful I’ll be able to come up with anything. But it’s not like I have a choice…
I am so wrong.
3 a.m.: Three older guys order chicken sandwiches at the counter and drunkenly stagger to a table nearby. They start talking to me. I learn they’re Kellogg students who “just came back from a secret night of debauchery,” which included stops at the Deuce and the Keg (because Tuesday night is Kellogg night, apparently). I tell them I’ve heard Kellogg kids are pretty wild, and they confirm my suspicions. “I may be 28, but I’m not dead,” one guy says. “I’m gonna hook up with a 20-year-old if I can.” Another confesses he gets kicked out of BK on a weekly basis for “disturbing the peace.” “It’s sad,” he says. “I’m basically 30, and I get kicked out of BK all the time. It’s not like I even do anything.” I learn he graduated from Princeton. Nice. Soon, two of the three take off, and I’m left with Princeton, who asks me if I’ll go on an adventure with him to go look at stars. I decline.
5:30 a.m.: A woman has been sitting in the corner with a large bag for hours. She looks familiar. I swear I’ve seen her before. I sit down next to her for a chat, and her bag moves. Then it moves again. And that’s when I realize she’s the woman I’ve been calling Mrs. Norris for the last two years. Barbara tells me she’s a grad student here at Northwestern. She stays at the library until 3 a.m. and then heads over to BK every night before heading home around 6 a.m. I’m pretty sure she’s lying, but it’s nice talking to her anyway. (When she heads out at around 6:30 a.m., I see her cat poke its head out of her bag).
7 a.m.: I meet two homeless guys. They proceed to tell me the best places to go when you’re homeless. But they say that information is top secret.
12:26 p.m.: “I want to break free” comes on the BK radio. Couldn’t be more appropriate.
3:02 p.m.: ASG presidential candidate Alessio Manti walks in. He sits down at a booth, starts his computer and does something for about seven minutes. Then he peaces.
3:10 p.m.: BK manager walks by and laughs. “I’m gonna start charging rent,” he says.
3:14 p.m.: I receive an e-mail informing me we’ve secured our planned cover story. All of the sources have been confirmed.Read it, page 4.
