I have not really gone out to the city since the weekend, so I can't report on any awesome sightseeing, but I did see one spectacular thing today: the beating of the cardiomyocytes that I plated earlier this week! That's right, I spent a part of today looking at small triangular grey blobs contorting on a dish. Okay, on to something a little more exciting for you guys.
Dramatized for your reading pleasure:
Please try and dig out the food race post in your memories (or simply scroll down, click around and find it!).
Setting: the very same gathering of the herd outside for that usual walk to the mensa (or as the Australians say food hall).
My mentor comments on how quickly my PI eats. It's simply amazing: he talks the most but also finishes his food first. No matter what. Challenge (silent): PI vs. ich--who can eat faster? Clearly, I was off to a bad start; I couldn't make up my find in the mensa: what should I eat? Some questionable brown goulash? Some heavy, red meat with potatoes? Some pasta? Some salad? Or some fake Mexican food? As I am negotiating with my stomach on what it wants and what I know is better for me, my PI has already decided on the Mexican food. I hastily line up too but alas, I am a whole 6 people behind him! By the time I pay for my food, he has already settled down with knife and fork raised! WAIT, not fair! I sit down and start. After five minutes, I look over to gage the competition. His plate was 50% gone! My progress = 90% still left to eat! Suddenly, the chicken and vegetable with brown sauce did not look so appetizing and that mountain of fries was piled insurmountably high. I was dismayed.
My mentor caught my eye and motioned for me to continue this match: not over yet! As I was intently working on my food, the conversation starts. My PI asks me about football and what not. I manage to chew and answer, however, this Q&A was hindering my progress. 15 miserable minutes of food shoveling later, I still had not reached 50%, and that's when I heard it.... the sound of two clinks as my PI put down his fork and knife and the scratch of the sound of the tray being pushed away. I hung my head: defeated.
I enjoyed the rest of the meal at a moderate pace: I was the last to finish, oh well but at least my stomach got some time to process all the food.
Afterwards, my lab mates heard about my challenge; they laughed and said, he doesn't chew... that's his trick of eating fast. (Good tip for next time if I ever take up the challenge again... it's the balance between enjoyment or eternal glory-- in other words: stomachache from eating too much too fast...)
LILY
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