The War of the Roses
On Fridays, Laura and I and a few other friends all had a nice long break in between classes or work . We would meet up at the Student Union, in an area called "The Backstage". It was a small offshoot of the main Union dining area, with a little stage set up in one corner, and TVs with soap operas all around. But most importantly, it was the Smoking Area. We would meet up, get something to snack on, and then spend our breaktime smoking and doing crossword puzzles or having impromptu production meetings for our upcoming shows.
Outside the Union, there was a vendor selling flowers out of a small cart. The flowers were obviously unsellable at floral shops, but they were discounted to $3 a dozen. One day, I decided to buy Laura a dozen, just because it's fun and cheap and would make her day. She loved them and we had a pleasant lunch. Little did I know what this would become.
The next week, she came in with a dozen for me.
The week after, we each came in with a dozen.
Shortly thereafter, two dozens (you could get two dozen for $5).
This went on, back and forth, for weeks on end. We would lie in wait until the very last second, pay the poor vendor whatever cash we had, haul in an armload of flowers, and spread them all over the table. It was less of a kind gesture and had become more of a ridiculous, yet still friendly, competition. A war of the Roses. And, believe me, we hauled all those roses to our next classes, to our work study jobs, everywhere. We needed larger backpacks to include the cellophane wrapped bunches.
When finally, one Friday, we had both come in with about six or seven dozens each (seriously, that vendor was raking in the cash bigtime), our friends had officially called us out on our crazy behavior. And we had to agree. This was officially ludicrous - we were spending good beer money on fucking flowers, for Christ sake. We looked down on our table, overflowing with dying flora, and realized what we had to do. We unwrapped all the dozens and started handing them out to everyone else eating lunch in the smoking area. We laid a few on empty tables, gave some to the students working in the fast food joints, and just kept spreading the love to whomever wanted some. We kept one rose each and took it with us for the rest of the day.
The next week, we met for lunch, per usual, and she had a dozen roses for me. Motherfucker.