In which your favorite investigative journalist and intrepid traveler, Adina Fradkov, ventures abroad to bring back something that we’ve all grown strangely entitled to.
The first half of this semester was difficult for all of us. J-Lash broke his back, I decided to take a math class, and the Bridge sushi was terrible. Suddenly, the unwitting population of Hampshire College lost the freshly prepared sushi they had all grown accustomed to, only for it to be replaced by sushi that was made not by a man, but by a fridge. When asked about the Bridge fridge sushi, this is what the student body had to say:
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t trust a FRIDGE to make sushi for a HUMAN. It’s UNNATURAL.”
“Clearly, Bon Appetit did not think this through. Fridges don’t have hands. How can they roll sushi[???]”
“This is making me angry. So angry I might…break a back of a president, so to speak. It’s just a saying. Like ‘Oh, I’m so angry I could eat a cow.’ Do you think if I hypothetically broke J-Lash’s back because I was mad about the sushi it could be traced back to me? Ha ha! Just a joke! I love to laugh!”
The student body had spoken. They had grown accustomed and strangely entitled to a certain level of sushi quality, and the administration had completely let them down. I knew it was up to me, Adina Fradkov, investigative journalist, to figure out just what had happened to the Bridge sushi, and, more importantly, to bring it back.
These are the facts: I started with the facts: Here they are:
- The first guy who made the sushi was from Thailand.
- He went back to Thailand and was replaced with another sushi chef from Thailand.
- Now the second sushi chef is gone, and with him, the sushis. And no one knows where he or they are.
I didn’t know any other facts. My time in college has been a waste. I didn’t know the sushi chef’s name, or his age, or his favorite color, or what he did in his spare time, or did he like that thing I did with my hair? Did he even notice? I started to ask the tough questions, to gets the facts, see.
Unfortunately, I learned that screaming your questions in the middle of the quad gets you nowhere. So I decided to go straight to the source. No, not the Bridge. Not even the kitchen of the bridge. I needed to go deeper. I needed to go to Thailand. My tum, and the tums of billions, nay, lots of billions, of hungry students, were depending on me. I was going to find the sushi chef and save Hampshire College. This was a promise. I had a plan.
I would snap pictures of millennials crying around campus and then, once I found the sushi chef, I would show him the pictures of millennials crying around campus. If the sushi chef only saw our plight, I knew he would leave his family to come back to America to be our new refrigerator. I knew it was goofball bananas, but maybe, just maybe, it was goofball bananas enough to work.
Before I left, I interviewed the student body on whether or not they will miss me.
“I don’t know you.”
“The real question is, will you miss Jonathan Lash? Will anyone? Just asking for no reason.”
Hampshire college had spoken. I would be missed. I could barely hold back my tears as I got on the plane. As the flight attendants explained flight safety, I thought of everything that I would miss about Hampshire. Students, complaining about the food. Students, complaining about the facilities. Students, complaining about my interview questions. Talk to the refrigerator, they’d say. The refrigerator will answer your stupid questions. Talk to the refrigerator.
When my plane landed in the Mae Fah Luang-Chiang Rai International Airport (CEI), I looked at my phone and saw that I had received some urgent texts. My mom was upset that I didn’t tell her I was going to Thailand. My friend texted me a meme about a turtle. Also, J-Lash had broken his back. Foul play was suspected, and they wanted me back on campus to investigate. I shook my head and flipped my phone shut, cringing as the crunching glass sound alerted me to my mistake. I sighed and chucked my crushed phone over my shoulder. I didn’t even look to aim, or to check whether it had actually landed in the trash. I didn’t have to, because I already knew the answer (it hadn’t) just like I already knew who had broken J-Lash’s back. And I, Adina Fradkov, investigative journalist, had their testimony on tape.
Yes, the careful reader may have figured it out. The Bridge fridge, in a fit of rage over being asked to do a task that they just weren’t very well suited for, had attacked J-Lash one quiet winter evening. After an open and shut investigation (where they opened the fridge and shut it again lol), the refrigerator was fired and sentenced to a few months in fridge jail (a cardboard box). The administration realized they could not give a refrigerator such an important responsibility and hired a human being to make the sushi. To compensate for the increased sushi budget, they cut corners by making health services even less accessible. Hampshire College achieved this marvelous feat by moving the health center to the center of an active volcano (they changed the name from health center to active volcano center). However, as a gesture of goodwill, they expanded to hours to 24/7, excluding weekends and weekdays.
And so, thusly, henceforth, the Bridge sushi got back to being really good. And I, Adina Fradkov, investigative journalist, was a hero.
I interviewed the student body on their thoughts on the case:
“ At first, I thought you were annoying, but now I think you’re a cool and sexy investigative journalist. I bet your vulva is very pretty, and I don’t mean that in a creepy way. I just think that aesthetically it is probably very nice.”
He would be right.
“It’s so cool that you cracked the case and got the good sushi back. Do you want to be my friend? Also, I have a car and I can totally drive you places in it whenever you want.”
Please drive me back to Thailand. I didn’t really get to do anything there. As soon as I got that text, I hopped on a flight back. Good thing my travel money was embezzled from the student health/volcano fund, or that would have been a huge waste.
“And I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for the fact that fridges can’t tell lies.”
That, they cannot.
Well, this cold case has been thawed. Until next time, this is Adina Fradkov, investigative journalist, local hero, very nice vulva, signing out.