There were moments when I wanted to kill the guys standing in front of me in line.

After leaving class early, taking a city bus and standing in the cold, these boys had the audacity to let their friends cut in line – only to push me farther away from satisfying my pangs of hunger. But as their antics tested my faith, I remained calm and kept my eyes on the prize: a free Chipotle burrito.

There couldn’t be anything more perfect about Chipotle Mexican Grill – it only uses only organic animal products, it has fully divested from its McDonald’s ownership, its restaurant interiors are made of almost 100 percent recyclable materials, and each burrito it produces is a little slice of heaven.

And last Thursday, this godsend eatery gave away free burritos to anyone willing to wait in line for them. Sure, the 35-minute wait I endured was painful, and I learned more about the spring breaks of the guys in front of me than anyone ever wants to know, but, wow, did that veggie burrito with guacamole make every minute of waiting worth it.

Pancheros, Qdoba, Big Ten: Watch out, there’s a new burrito in town.

THERESA KENNELLY

There is no need to spare any change, my good friend

As if actually living in East Quad wasn’t bad enough, the walk down East University Avenue to and from campus brought me an extra special something: an almost daily encounter with Ronnie, a very (very) friendly man who has been a fixture at the corner of East University and South University avenues for at least three years.

It was hard to say no to “Can you spare any change?” and Ronnie’s infectious smile, mostly because I could spare the change, and so for the better part of two years I did. But one day, even after I handed him a dollar, Ronnie wanted to talk to me about the weather, my classes and the many men in my life (“Is there one?”). He wanted to know.

I no longer have to spare any change. Instead, I flirt. I give Ronnie a great big smile when I pass his corner and ask him, “How you doin’ today?” And then, when I’m feeling particularly generous (or guilty), I don’t freak out when Ronnie invades my personal space and gives me a hug.

OK, sometimes it’s a kiss on the cheek, too. Is it moral? Probably not? Hygenic? Doubtful. But my change has remained safely in my pocket for almost a year now and my guilt decidedly in check.

MARA GAY

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