Stage 1: Revel in the fact that you don’t have to deal with traveling for eight hours just to listen to your extended family have racist, sexist, or homophobic conversations about what’s happening in Ferguson, thereby avoiding the temptation to flinging mashed potatoes across the dinner table out of frustration and completely ruining the holiday.

Stage 2: Scramble to appropriate food from the Deece as much as possible while it’s still open. Bring at least four different Tupperware containers and an extra bag for the taking of bananas and apples. Realize that the only things there are incredibly stale bagels and incredibly unappetizing refried beans. Leave empty-handed and unsatisfied.

Stage 3: Attempt to leave campus on Thanksgiving morning. It’s a holiday so the bus loop is not in service and no taxis seem to be running. Finally get a hold of one and ask them to come at 2:00PM. It’s 2:15PM and you’re standing in the snow and there’s no taxi in sight and the train you’re supposed to take to get to a friend’s house is leaving in half an hour. Begin to panic. Strategically ask a safety and security guard if any shuttles are running to the train station, attempting to look as pathetic as possible while doing so. Emphasize how sad you are. Succeed in winning his sympathies and get a free ride.

Stage 4: Thank your friend for taking you in and feeding you, like a stray dog. Be reminded how excellent it is to eat home cooked food. Stuff as much into your stomach as physically possible. Let the soft orange glow of sweet potatoes—little chewy pillows of deliciousness baked in olive oil and sprinkled with cinnamon and nutmeg—warm your soul. Fall into a sugar coma after eating too many pumpkin rolls. Celebrate the fact that there are going to be plenty of leftovers to bring back with you. Your Tupperware will finally be full of love, happiness, and friendship—a shining beacon of hope given the coming days of Deecelessness.

Stage 5: On the train ride back, the train has been stopped in the middle of nowhere for over ten minutes. An announcement comes on saying “ladies and gentlemen we apologize for the delay but the *unintelligible series of words* fell off and we just had to put it back on, but we’ll be on our way now.” Feel momentarily concerned until the train starts moving again. Arrive back on campus and realize that there is still an unfortunate amount of homework left to do that is apparently all due this coming week. Begin to panic.