Never a lentil
This tale of lentils is the first installment of “Dayton Diary,” a series of short, personal stories of campus life: quirky encounters, anecdotes, light-hearted moments or overheard snippets. Why not write one yourself and send it (300 words or fewer) to firstname.lastname@example.org? Put “Dayton Diary” in the subject line. The magazine will publish online and in print as space permits.
I was in the Founders Residence Hall bathroom around 1 a.m. brushing my teeth when a girl I slightly recognized walked in. She stopped dead in her tracks, sniffed for a moment and announced, “It smells like lentils.”
I never considered that lentils had a particular smell, but the bathroom had a very interesting odor, given there was probably popcorn or Kraft Macaroni and Cheese that was burnt to a crisp sitting atop the mountain of paper towels in the garbage can. Burnt, microwavable college delicacies are prevalent in residence hall bathroom garbage cans.
“Yeah, it does smell pretty weird in here,” I replied
“I know, right!” she said. “It definitely smells like lentils!”
“It definitely smells like lentils!”
She launched into a story about how someone she knew is always cooking lentils, which makes their room constantly smell awful. Apparently, this person feels the need to constantly cook
lentils because it’s a good protein source, but the girl and I agreed that that is no excuse given its unpleasant smell.
We continued to talk about random aspects of college life for about 10 minutes, with the lentil smell still wafting through the air.
After she left, I thought to myself, “Well, I swear to never eat lentils, or at least not cook them.”
To this day, I’ve kept my word.