It is a story with humble beginnings. As a junior in high school, I was struggling with the all-important question: "with whom shall I eat lunch?" I drifted from group to group until I eventually settled in with one. All in all I didn’t mesh very well with that lunch group. I was quiet and withdrawn. But, with the semester change came a critical renewal—new characters were introduced into our lunch group, including Ryan Rasmussen and Kelly Peterson. I knew them superficially—we had had several classes together in the past and were even currently taking classes together. But the lunch scene was much different than the classroom scene, which had failed to create friendship. Gradually the new group settled in. I began to talk, to open up. We began to laugh. Where the classroom had failed, the lunchroom succeeded. Lunchtime was good. It brought together the group that would prove to be the nightmare of a white-haired math teacher known simply as "Ron". But all too soon that school year came to an end and the endless possibilities of lunchtime remained undiscovered.

Summer passed in the blink of an eye, as it always does, and suddenly the senior year was upon us—brimming with possibilities. But what would lunchtime bring us this year? Our group started out small—only Cowboy, Narte, and I if I’m not mistaken—in a little-known corridor on the second floor. Although ‘twas a quite unattractive group, slowly it began to grow. Before long we found ourselves with quite a formidable crowd and it became necessary for us to find a new location for our inane babble. As the rat-infested lunchroom was an unattractive option, and the frigid Utah winter did not allow for outdoor lunching just yet, we opted for the corridor between the gym and the lunchroom. Once again the semester change brought new life into our group, in the form of Kelly Peterson. Kelly, with his powder-blue Chuck Taylor high-tops was the gravitational force that began to attract numbers hitherto undreamed of. About this time, Angie Thurston began to affiliate with our male-dominated group. She brought a creative female mind that would prove very useful to us. Indeed it was she who gave birth to the much beloved "treat bucket". Crazy Rick was essential to maintain the sanity of the group, as ironic as that may seem, and to counterbalance the influence of his arch-nemesis, Narte. Cowboy was a consistent fountain of wit to satiate our wit-thirsty minds. None were turned away, as proven by the ever-irritating presence of one "Brentessa", he was as a splinter under our collective skin. Besides these key players, there were a handful of rats that frequented our group—fulfilling the purpose of their creation by constantly quoting Chris Farley lines. As the predator depends on the prey, they were important to us, providing hours of entertainment as we mocked and ridiculed their every word and deed. Occasionally we were blessed with a special treat. On his route to seminary my younger, yet more popular brother would pass in front of our gathering and, giving in to our pleas, would favor us with his larger-than-life birdie finger. These were good times.

Although these activities brought joy to our sundry student lives, there were still two key elements lacking in our diverse group: 1)chicks—our daily ratio was usually seven to one, and 2)Mr. Rasmussen. On rare occasions, when he could escape the clutches of the sinister Mr. Crump, we were graced by his presence. But his much-needed wit was not to be had in abundance at this time. As for the chicks, we, through our female representative (Ms. Thurston) began to recruit, with varying success.

As spring arrived, our group, which had now outgrown the once-spacious hallway, moved outdoors. This provided us with hitherto unknown or unexplored means of entertainment. We began to keep a daily record of our nourishment, placing food items on the wall of the edifice. Mr. Peterson and I began to develop our skills in lunch-bag hacky sack. Boy and Monkey made it’s debut, to the delight of all. Then there was the picnic. Oh yes, the picnic—where we ate our own weight in nutritionless food and were still able to donate to the less fortunate of our lunchtime peers, as the master throws his leftovers to the begging dog.

These were days that will never be forgotten. That brief moment between 4th and 5th period would change our lives forever. Yes, lunchtime was good indeed—rivaled perhaps only by 2nd period with Ron Davis.

One cannot pause to reflect on lunchtime past without asking oneself: "and what of lunchtime future?" Although destiny has scattered our group throughout the state, nation, and world something within me says that lunchtime will once again be an integral part of our glorious future. Perhaps fate shall smile upon us. Perhaps J-Pig, Slicky, Cowboy, Narte, Brentessa, and Mr. Rasmussen shall be reunited in the hallowed U of U Union Building. Perhaps Ryan Pratt shall unite his extraordinary birdy finger and wit to our already wit-rich group—making us the very epitome of wittyness. Only time will tell what will become of LUNCHTIME.