There are two lines for chow, which eat on separate sides bisected by the lines themselves. Generally, whites go to the left, and blacks to the right. It’s an unspoken rule, something imposed by ourselves, and not strictly enforced, just observed. Depending on which moves faster, I’ll sit on both sides.
There’s always a big rush to get to the chow hall, because if you’re not among that first 40-50 to arrive, you’ll be standing outside in the cold or the rain or whatever the elements happen to be, and the line moves sooo slow.
Since I hate waiting in line, I’ll sit on whatever side seats me first, which is usually the right side unless it’s chicken day. Typically, the people who sit on the right take their time and show up late versus the dozen white guys who stand around in the lobby for 30 minutes waiting for it to be called. There’ll be a line out the door on the left, while there’s only 2 people on the right.
Instead of being ushered to sit down at long community tables with bench seats, you choose which small, 4 chair table to eat at. It’s cramped and uncomfortable, having to acknowledge everyone and then getting silently pissed off as they eat with their elbows, arms, and chest hunched over the table like an uncouth savage.
Most of the time, I don’t walk with anyone to the chow hall, because I’m trying to get in and out as quickly as possible, especially if they’re serving sloppy joes, which smell like dirty diapers and tomato sauce. In which case, I’m just gonna eat the veggies and grab the fruit for later. It’s not a good restaurant.
Easy Trouble 