Chris McCandless at KO

The lunchroom is a frontier of its own.  Instead of the hungry packs of wolves or the scurrying mice avoiding detection in the Alaskan wilderness, there are students here behaving just the same.  I dodge past confident adventurers, those not afraid to make their mark in the lunchroom, laughing for all to hear or broadcasting their conversations with their friends.  There are also preoccupied wanderers traveling alone, my own outlook reflected in their faces.  I give a friendly smile to the lunch server as she passes me a hearty meal.  At the drink machine, I converse with teacher, a short burst of much needed human connection.  I keep the conversation brief, though, so I can move on and eat my lunch alone.  Finding an empty table is an ordeal of its own because the lunchroom is now so crowded with a variety of pretentious and subdued students.  Some smile or nod at me as I make my way to an empty counter seat, and I acknowledge them in return, forming the little temporary connections I deeply missed in the wild.  Finally, I sit and eat a meal that could have fed me for days in the wilderness, immersed in the solitude of my own “neck of the woods.”