I am the DUC. Strong and mighty, I serve you every day. Or maybe I haven't served you since freshman year, but I am always here for you. Come eat at me. PLEASE??!!!! I'm only $1545 per semester! That's almost $15 less than 4 out of thousands of other colleges. I am well-priced, yet monetarily ambiguous. I am the DUC.

But I won't jabber on about prices. It's the food I want you to experience. DUC food. Good food. Eat me.

Let's start off with a nice, wet tray that automatically cleans your hands before eating. See, I'm sanitary. Nevermind the fact that little pieces of food might be on the tray when you turn it over. You'll probably eat them because you love me. I am the DUC. Indulge.


“Oooooo, I just love it when people groom me.”

I don't have that usual cafeteria aroma. No, leave the middle school cafeterias to the 8th grade bullies, because your in college now mister. You're at the DUC. I will tantalize your nose and infect you with the sweet smells of rotisserie chicken and pork loins that the kids didn't finish at lunch today. Oh, they're all still hot too. Sometimes you'll think the meat is beef, but it's really pork. I like to trick you sometimes. I can be tricky. Watch out, you'll be pleasantly surprised. I am the DUC. I am clever and scentuous.

Is your mouth watering yet? That's probably because you haven't visited me today. I am lonely without you. But I will keep making the same food that you love to hate. Even if you haven't eaten me in a while. I am steadfast and I am the DUC. Love me for my food.

I have loyal workers. Even when most of the workers look apathetic about serving my food, if you look hard enough, you'll find at least one employee who sincerely wants to earn a wage…and send you off satisfied. Take, for instance, the lady who makes pasta in one of my two, long lines: she makes enough to look busy and then stirs and stirs, stirs and stirs, over low heat while you wait. Then John emerges from the back and whips up a bowl of pasta in the other line, inspiring all but the fist in you, because you've been waiting and suddenly someone cares enough about my food to cook fast and furiously. You don't want this pasta? Sour grapes. Sure you do. Go ahead, curse me and wait for the other pasta like you have been for the past 10 minutes. I see through you. I am the DUC. I am perceptive and you can't deny me.

Did you know I have terraces? When you eat at me, you're actually floating on air. My food deserves to be on a pedestal and so do you when you eat me. Dreamlike and heavenly. I am the DUC. Don't ever come down!

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