Brown University, Class of 2014 A Trip to the Deli By Olivia Conetta It's a sunny, sweltering day on Long Island. Old Northern Boulevard is bustling with obnoxious mothers with fake tans and even faker hair color. One such mother can be heard screaming into her BlackBerry that her son needs to be retrieved from sleepaway camp. German cars line the street. At the town deli, the air conditioning is strong but not overpowering, perfect for the humid day. The employees all work with a sense of anticipation - they know who will be joining them soon. The door opens. In walks a girl with large sunglasses and a scowl. From one hand she dangles keys and a small wallet. In the other rests her BlackBerry. Another girl walks in behind her. She carries a black Chanel bag, which rests not on her shoulder but her forearm. Chanel sunglasses obscure her eyes. She, too, holds a BlackBerry from which she's writing a tweet. She walks with a fake swagger, as if she knows she's nothing but a wannabe. The entire staff of the deli rolls their eyes and sighs. The scowling girl walks up to the salad counter, stares at the options, and walks away in a huff. "Rachel, I thought you were on a diet," the Chanel girl says derisively. Rachel grunts like a pig. "Just this one time I'm not, okay? I don't fucking want a salad today, Lauren." "I'm trying to be a good friend," Lauren says, but she's paying more attention to her tweet than to Rachel's attempted diet. Rachel hesitates for a second, wondering what's fattening enough to be satisfying but not fattening enough to make her fatter. She approaches the sandwich counter. "Give me a whole wheat wrap with roast beef, lettuce, tomato, cheese, olives, and lots of mayo. Legit a lot of mayo. I'm dieting, and I need this to taste good." The worker behind the counter holds back incredulous laughter. Lauren approaches her dieting friend and, focusing on her BlackBerry, says, "Mayo makes you fat." "Shut the fuck up!" Rachel snaps. "Like, you're a fucking joke." "You're the joke here," Lauren says back, unamused. "Mayo makes you fat. Like, it's unhealthy. And, like, you're on a diet." "Whatever." Rachel storms off to the counter in the back. "I want a large iced coffee, and you better put in six packets of sugar - not that Sweet N Low crap like last time." She whips out her father's AmEx and slams it on the counter. "I'm paying credit." Silently, the cashier swipes the card and hands Rachel the receipt. She signs it with flourish and shows Lauren her signature. "I'm so legit with this signature. I look fucking professional." Without even looking at the cashier, Rachel shoves the receipt back in the cashier's face. Lauren finally stops typing on her phone, takes note of her surroundings, and realizes that it's too hot for her inside the deli. At home, Lauren's mother keeps the air conditioning on nearly sub-zero temperatures. She is accustomed to cold temperatures, and the light air conditioning in the deli is simply not enough for her. "What the fuck, Rachel? It's so hot in here," she says, fanning herself with a newly manicured hand. The cashier is dumbfounded. Rachel grunts. "You're so fucking right. It's a fucking sauna in here." She turns to the cashier. "Tell whoever is in charge that they should turn the air conditioning up. It's not cold enough in here. Do you think we're in Africa or the rainforest or something? We're not supposed to fucking sweat." The worker puts Rachel's wrap on the counter. With her left hand, Rachel picks up her huge saran-wrapped Styrofoam cup of coffee. Her keys and wallet rest under the flabby fat of her arm. She puts her BlackBerry under her other flab of arm and grabs the wrap. Rachel and Lauren storm out of the deli without a word to the staff as Rachel says to Lauren, "I've never been so fucking hungry in my life." Lauren says, "You said that yesterday when we left the deli."