This Monday began like any other, slightly chaotic and with groggy images of Saturday night lingering in my peripheral vision. I was sitting in my usual parking spot (uncomfortably far from Hellgate itself)– mentally skimming through my daily necessities. Textbooks? Check. Laptop? Check. Writing utensils? Check. A caffeine-induced feeling of impending doom? Double check.

But as I slung my bag over my shoulder, I thought of the one thing that really mattered between 4th and 5th period.. My lunch. I freaked— this was my first time forgetting my lunch all semester!

This may be a light-hearted oversight to the average junior, but no, not to me. I’ve been pinching pennies lately, setting aside my change for another pair of overpriced sneakers. This made it feel unfathomable to drop $12 on a Missoula “artisanal” Panini or an $8 latte named after some 19th-century poet. Not only was my wallet flipping, so was my stomach. 

So I did something unprecedented in the history of my high school career. I made my way slowly and somewhat apprehensively towards the school cafeteria.

Let me set the scene. 

The moment I entered the school commons, I was hit with a potent cocktail of patriotic scents. Overcooked vegetables, microwaved meat, and an unmistakable waft of industrial cleaning products. The air was thick—  not just with a foody aroma, but with every atom of midday chaos imaginable. As I shuffled into line in front of me, I could hear reckless freshmen blatantly degrading a teacher while exhausted students with bad cases of senioritis and stubble quickly blocked me in from behind. I felt like I was slowly being pulled into some sort of lunchtime anarchy plot waiting in line. 

By the time I emerged as a line leader, the options were bleak. All that remained (besides a few cans of controversial-looking peaches) was one solitary dish: Lasagna. 

As a reporter, I think I should be completely honest. This wasn’t the lasagna Italians take credit for. It wasn’t a dish your nonna would spend hours making with homemade pasta sheets and simmering tomato paste. No, it was lunchroom lasagna: slightly lukewarm, served in a compostable cup already giving way at the base, and coated with cheese that had definitely seen better days. Alongside came a garlic stick— I would give a well-thought-out review, but I love all garlic sticks, no matter their questionable origin. 

The dish’s appearance wouldn’t faze me; I’d already come this far. 

To my pleasant surprise, as I took my first bite sitting with my giggling friends in the art room, a strange feeling set in. The cheese? Sure, it felt like plastic. But the lasagna was nostalgic in its own special way. It was strangely delicious— it felt like biting into a childhood dream. A memory from a 5th-grade sleepover, when food didn’t have to be complicated in order to be deemed satisfying. 

I’m not saying the Hellgate Cafeteria is a new hidden 5-star dine-in. But I am saying that for any student on a budget (or someone like me, who tends to forget lunch in pursuit of fashionable footwear), it’s not the dystopian wasteland some snobs make it out to be. 

More importantly, the cafeteria staff deserves a moment of appreciation. Their hard work feeds hundreds of ravenous and perpetually picky teenagers day after day. Enduring long hours and the occasional snarky comments. 

So if you, just like me, find yourself starving, broke, or just plain curious, don’t be afraid to wander into the lunchroom. Sometimes satisfaction doesn’t come from a $15 bagel or the Taco Bell drive-through; it comes in a compostable cup, buried underneath layers of pasta, cheese, and tomato sauce.