By Anthony Bernardi

I’d never seen a theft in progress. It made me antsy. My rapidly pattering feet matched the spastic beat of my heart. It was really an exhilarating event. Of course, this wasn’t a crime of any serious consequence, but I couldn’t help but squirm with some kind of perverse thrill.

I was in the Wildcat Den, in a tremendously unholy state early Friday afternoon after a long and reckless night, when I witnessed three flannel-clad shifty individuals stuffing their bags with fruit, cookies, bagels and sandwiches they had so expertly wrapped in napkins like some kind of criminal Christmas presents. Looking around, I couldn’t believe that the countless faces cramming their pie holes with the day’s cuisine hadn’t noticed the scandalous scene transpiring in front of them.

Admittedly, I haven’t met a student yet in the five years I’ve spent at Northern Michigan that hasn’t had a critical word to say about Dining Services and its meal prices, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that not a single soul was prepared to break up the measly offense. The merry band of thieves simply carried on with their heist, smiling like a pack of drunken dogs as they casually made their way to the exit.

For a while, I sat stunned in my seat staring at the scene of the crime. I do not know who those individuals were, nor do I remember exactly what they looked like, and never will no matter what kind of dastardly method of interrogation I am subjugated to, but I do freely admit I do not disapprove of what they did.

The crowd filtered in and out twice over before I finally rose from my seat. As I headed to the dish line to deposit my ravenged plate, I fixed my eyes on the table where the rebels had stuffed their bags. In the plastic fixture sitting crookedly atop the table was a note. It read in thick black marker, “You paid eight dollars for this meal. Take whatever the hell you want!”

I couldn’t help but find their cause righteous. I knew it wouldn’t have any real influence outside of an eternally raddled North Wind columnist looking for a story, but at least they were doing something other than simply jabbering on about the swindling system.

Whether it be the quality, quantity, choice or hours of operation, Northern connoisseurs have always rattled on about ways in which their individual experiences could be made better. Over the years, foremost of the plethora of grievances has undoubtedly been meal costs.

As you may already know, food in communal areas such as the Marketplace and Den cannot be taken from the premises. This leaves students with quantified meal plans two choices: take the time to eat what you paid for, a luxury few have, or forfeit the cash to the university. It isn’t a surprise that given no alternatives, desperate students have turned to looting.

I suspect now that I have broken the story, uniformed officers will be stationed at every conceivable exit as well as monitoring the cameras on a twenty four hour basis. Bag and strip searches may be implemented to discourage any further theft, save for the allowed piece of fruit or cookie. Harsher punishments may be ushered into action. Offenders will be strapped to the hood of a patrol car and driven down Main Street at top speeds.

For the likely consequential reactive measures brought on by this article, I truly apologize, but rebellious acts such as this need to be seen and heard of. Our very country was built upon the defiant crimes of a few while the sissies mulled the idea of a revolution over the dim light of a wax candle. So I implore you, the reader, to stop stuffing your faces like American swine and do something rather than just blathering about it. Be the next Paul Revere, Thomas Jefferson, or George Washington. Fulfill your birthright and smuggle that pastry with pride knowing that at least you are standing up for something you believe in.