I'm hungry. What should I eat?
This question seems simple enough, but it is actually an incredibly taxing daily dilemma. It seems like I am constantly figuring out where and what I am going to eat for my next meal.
There is an incredibly complex mental calculus that goes into this very primitive decision: Do I have time to go to the Bryan Center between classes? How long will the line be at Subway? Is the Great Hall open right now? When was the last time I ate at Alpine? Can I safely ingest the caloric levels of Panda Express? You can usually eat healthy at the Loop, but it takes longer than McDonald's-depending, of course, on if you factor in the walk. Some places are acceptable to eat at alone, but you really need a group (and sometimes a faculty member) to eat at the Faculty Commons. If you want to go to the Dillo, then you'd better have a pen on you-in case they are out of those golf pencils.
Does this decision really have to be so complicated? If you recall, freshman year did not bring such dietary anxiety, because there was a default option: the Marketplace. Of course, it wasn't always good-it was, in fact, often very bad-but there was comfort in knowing it was always there. Having a central dining hall meant a shared experience, independent of the food. As a friend said to me one night freshman year at dinner, after being repulsed by the look of the fish on my plate: "I got the fish too, but only so we would have something to talk about."
The problem with West Campus, however, is that there is no internal logic to the dining options. This is another instance of our culture fundamentally misunderstanding the nature of human freedom.
Every time there is a complaint about the food on campus, the response of Duke Dining seems to be to add another option to the slew of eateries. After my freshman year they unveiled the Plaza, which was supposed to be a smorgasbord of food carts and new choices. Sophomore year saw the addition of Tommy's and extended hours at McDonald's. Last year, the Faculty Commons was opened to students and this year saw the inauguration of Panda Express. Next year's lucky matriculates will (supposedly) get to see the long-awaited arrival of the Food Factory.
This is not uncommon. The modern default answer to problems is always "more options," because we believe that "more options" is the same as "more freedom." It's why we believe "free elections" is the same as a "free country" and it's why we believe that "more channels" means "better TV." If we have a lot of choices, one of them is bound to be good, or so the logic goes.
But this is the same attitude that led to the Florida Marlins and Fred Thompson's presidential run. Anyone who has eaten at a food court knows that simply having a lot of options only solves the problem if the new options are any good. Too often, however, this approach prioritizes quantity over quality. Adding new options every year means Duke Dining can more easily ignore the overall quality of food on campus.
Of course, not every on-campus dining option is bad. In fact, many of them are pretty good. The problem is simply that they all have severe limitations-none of them adequately serves the needs of every Duke student. Some are closed too often, some have narrow menus, some are too small, some are too far away, some are not healthy, etc. There is no place you can consistently rely on to get a decent meal, no matter who you are with or what time it is. In short, there is no default option.
A default option may not seem that important-I can't say that I've spent much time missing the Marketplace-and many people find the concept of a central dining option downright fascist, but dining cannot rely on an abundance of niche options and specialty restaurants to fulfill the needs of an entire campus. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm hungry. I need to find somewhere to eat.
John Schneider is a Trinity senior. His column runs every other Monday.
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