Fries Before Anything

 French fries. The most ubiquitous food, commonly shared by young and old. A favorite of teenagers when hanging out with friends. Eaten as a snack, as a side, or as a meal by itself. Food that binds people together. Fried, baked, roasted, something agreed upon by everyone. When the menu appears, eyes are drawn to one singular item before looking around and exchanging signals, until a voice pipes up to order.

The original saying is, ‘fries before guys’. I’ve adapted it to fit me. Having no ‘guys’ in question to fret over and hardly any desire to acquire another reason increases anxiety, I believe my saying stands. Fries before making possibly life-changing decisions. Among all the people who religiously live by the saying, I am one of them.

My friends and I used to go down to the school canteen and look around the hustle and bustle to see our options. After minutes, what seemed like hours, of debating what to pick, we always ended up getting the only thing we considered edible enough to enjoy what was left of our break, i.e. the fries.

The rest of our break would be spent scoping out a spot to eat, rushing to the benches before another group came along, and parking ourselves there while the bell rang, signaling the end of the break. A mad rush back upstairs to the classroom while avoiding the nosy teachers on the lookout for late students and splitting up to go to our individual classes while stuffing a few pieces into our mouths for sustenance. Arguably one of the most fond memories of my school life.

Even on non-school-related outings with my friends. Strolls through the mall and cinema stands, always ending with a drop in on the neighborhood bookstore, all while balancing a plate of fries in one arm and the aforementioned books, too big to fit in the utterly tiny purses we brought along, merely for the sake of fashion. Banter was shared across fries. Overly dramatic looks of longing while mouthing the lyrics of an old song from the 70s. Tears were shed when one of our friends had to transfer to Delhi and bought us a meal as a going-away present. Every major and minor event in my life happened over french fries.

Consoling my cousin brother over a scraped knee, stuffing the individual pieces of salty goodness until he stopped crying. Laughing over the exploits of Rowan Atkinson as an MI6 agent with my friend who came over for a sleepover. Winning the battle of an extra half a mark on a test, toppling my score to the 90th percentile, and getting fries to celebrate.