Dear Emory Undergrads...

Dear Emory Undergrads,

Thank you for both entertaining and annoying me while I eat my broccoli cheddar soup at Panera. Although I appreciate your optimism and zest for life, your flagrant elitism, well...gets in my craw (as the southerners say).

Overheard at Panera: A young gentleman, probably 19 or 20, dressed in his finest polo with the collar popped, dining on a bread bowl with his homeboy. They discuss the $1,000 3 day ski weekend they will be taking. Is it just me? Is this normal? I could barely scrape together enough to but a sixer of Nattie light when I was a college student.

The lad shares his dream for the restaurant he will open one day in L.A. "Dude, it's going to be killer. The outside will be all neon, and we will only serve appetizers. Like, you could order 17 appetizers for your table if you want. And they would come down a conveyor belt, and you would have this TV screen in front of you. A lady on the screen would ask you if your food was good. I'm going to do it, dude, I swear."

I didn't want to break it to him, but this is not a novel concept. Actually, I think that sounds like a cross between tapas and Max Hedroom.