As I stepped into my new dorm in Brandscomb Quad, I was flooded by the tsunami of boxes, heavy luggage, and exasperation from dealing with the bureaucracy of the airport. I had just flown back to Nashville from Baltimore, Maryland. I was in desperate need of sustenance, but I dreaded opening my GET app to find the usual culprits of chicken tenders or burgers that plagued my fall semester. Yet, a miracle descended from the heavens when my eyes glanced upon the glorious words, “Randwich”. Alleluia! I had come to believe that this famous sandwich was an urban legend, a comrade sacrificed in the new Covid-19 protocols of the university. I went through the options and made gasps when I saw I could choose a pretzel roll as my bun and basil aioli as my dressing. Who was this Randwich? This meal item began to take on an identity as I personalized it with my preferences. I grew audibly excited, and my stomach couldn’t have been happier.
I made the short, yet beautiful journey from my humble abode, past the string lights of Rand, and through the black doors to a destiny I never could have imagined. I flashed my Commodore Card for the first time in 2021, and boy, I was not disappointed. As I unveiled the sandwich, I felt like I was going through a religious experience. All throughout the fall semester, I constantly complained to my friends that all I wanted was simple food from the dining hall. I didn’t need complicated gnocchi or grilled, fishy salmon. All I wanted was an old-fashioned sandwich!
As I took my first bite, I basked in this newfound warmth that radiated from the sandwich. My pretzel roll was perfectly toasted with a slight crunch, with a mouthwatering saltiness. The turkey to provolone cheese ratio was so expertly done I wouldn’t be surprised if Gordon Ramsey himself stepped out from the Rand kitchen. The crispy freshness of the lettuce with the smoothness of the basil aioli created a juxtaposition even Shakespeare would be jealous. The homemade chips were like mini-intermissions between the melodic bites of perfection that was my Randwich. To top it all off, my sparkling water washed everything down to create a perfect back-to-campus meal. I was pleasantly surprised at this new option, and so excited to have a meal to look forward to in my new semester once classes get chaotic.
But, another catastrophe struck my freshman experience. Apparently other people seemed to enjoy their Randwich as well. The order ahead option became so busy that I now have to order my Randwich a week in advance. My new bright spot on campus shined too bright, and like moths to a light, starving college students flocked to this beacon. I’m not surprised since this sandwich impacted me in a way I didn’t know was possible, and I know what you’re thinking. Zoe, how can a sandwich impact you? You must not do anything fun. And you would be slightly right, considering we’re in a pandemic, so my food experiences constitute a major portion of how I find enjoyment safely and healthily.
This sandwich was like the fire at the Olympic opening ceremonies. It represented my excitement for new experiences, a craving for collegiate learning, and bravery for trying new things. The Randwich is a symbol of my excitement and hope for this new Spring semester, since the fall left much to be desired. The Randwich has left a permanent impression on me, since it was how I happily reunited with Nashville and Vanderbilt in the middle of this pandemic, filled with so much stress and fear. It may just be a sandwich, but I think we can all find a little hope in the return of this beauty.
Our freshman experience is definitely not what we hoped for, but there’s nothing we can do to change that. I remind myself, and anyone reading this, to focus on your own spheres of control and find hope in the little things. For me, it was the experience of my first Randwich. What will yours be? No matter what it is, just remember to have fun, stay safe, and make memories! Welcome back, Commodores!