It is possibly ten, or somewhere around eleven p.m. at night (though more like the wee hours if it’s during the weekend), when you’re sitting around in your common room — and hopefully not at your room still doing homework — when your stomach grumbles. It will inevitably grumble, because our pace of life makes our minds be in a constant daydream of what will we have for breakfast, for snacks, for lunch (fingers crossed that there was one of those special meals), for dinner… and for dinner. Then after 8 p.m., our cherished stomachs which were happy with a steady flow of food throughout the day, are suddenly tapping at our ribcage, thinking “Hey, what’s up with the food?”
That, of course, is when a collective thought skates through our minds, as if pushed forward while it had been secretly hiding and warming in anticipation. This is your queue to grab your phone, open your messages, scroll through any contact that is labelled with “MUWCI” at the end (such as “Marie MUWCI”, “Alfred MUWCI”, “Calvin MUWCI”, etc) and type something like, “Hey, just out of curiosity, but do you know of someone who’s making noodles?”.
That’s when you will realise that the floating letters of “typing…” above your friend’s contact had also been active while you reached out to him — and Boom! A big message pops in your screen, followed by an earthquake-like upshot. Why? Because the message says four crucial words: “NOODLES AT WADA 4!”.
Suddenly, you drop your phone, grab a random fork, and race across your Wada, watching people hurrying with their phones balanced between their cheeks and shoulders, like moths to a flame. And yeah, in the darkness of the night, the big windows of the common room that spill light into the courtyard, are like beacons in the middle of MUWCI jungle. From there on, I guess everyone can figure out what happens: lots of indiscreet spooning, lots of laughing, and lots of gossip and bonding over a scrumptious pot with friends.
