By Staff Writers
The Seal - Audrey
Two parents circle the Seal with their young son.
"Don't you dare step on the Seal!" The mother warns. "Do you know how much time you'll have to spend at the turtles?"
Every person who walks by avoids the Seal out of habit - some only by a small margin as they step on the concrete circle that surrounds the faded blue-green circle.
Two tour groups stop at the Seal.
"Watch your step here. That's the Seal of the university," one guide explains.
He describes the Upham Arch tradition next.
"My parents are Miami Mergers who've been married for 20 years. I'm always proud to bring that up."
Every few minutes, two new tour groups replace the old ones and give the same speech about Miami traditions.
A student steps on the Seal while looking at his phone. He neither notices nor cares.
"Some people take the Seal seriously," a guide tells her group. "My friend accidentally stepped on the Seal, and we all watched him. We all failed our next exam, so yeah, I take it pretty seriously."
One of the moms from the tour group laughs as the guide explains Miami Mergers.
"I have a friend who got engaged under the arch," the mom says. "But I think they're getting a divorce now."
"They probably stepped on the seal," says someone else in the group. Everyone laughs.
A couple, probably in their thirties, walks by holding hands.
"I'm gonna step on it!" the woman says, grinning.
The man laughs nervously, holding an outstretched hand to her as she steps on the Seal.
By 1:09, what was once a busy area filled with tour groups and passing students is now completely empty.
MacCracken Market - Alison
A car horn blares outside, but the noise disappears as soon as the door to the market closes.
It's two minutes to 1 p.m., and seven students wait in line to buy their food. Others still meander around the store, while even more are just entering.
"Is this the line?" one girl asks, sounding slightly annoyed.
Another worker appears to help at the second register.
There's a rhythmic "beep, beep, beep," as items are scanned before being rustled into bags.
"Hi, how are you?" the cashier says with a smile, breaking the silent exchange. "Have a great day."
Three girls walk around with items thrown in their baskets, one with her arms full. They must be restocking on food after the weeklong break.
A guy buys a bottle of shampoo, a stick of deodorant and a lot of different-flavored protein bars.
Only a few people get what actually looks like some semblance of a real lunch - most just buys chips, a drink and other snacks.
"Should we get tomatoes?" another girl asks her friend, picking up the small package.
"Yeah," her friend responds, delayed and not paying attention.
A few seconds later she asks, "Wait, do they have tomatoes?"
"These little baby ones," the first girl says.
Like usual, people aimlessly wander around the small market, looking slightly lost.
The guy buying the protein bars does this before returning to the same aisle to stare at the shelves again before heading up to the register.
At 1:11 p.m., "Take on Me" fades out from the speakers above just as the crowd in the market dies down.
Encounter- Kevin
It's the lunch rush, but the line is non-existent. I step up to the smiling cashier, her blond hair in a ponytail beneath a black cap.
I ask for pickles and tomato, substitute a pretzel bun. The Miami "M" stamp is too pretentious for my taste.
"Cheese?"
"American, I guess."
Order complete, I settle down at table 13. The shiny veneer hints that I am its first guest of the day.
I stare at the pop art cheeseburger on the wall as I wait for my own. It arrives within minutes.
Against the wall a student dines with his parents. The old-timers joke with their server as their son comes down from his spring break high.
I, too, return to reality as I pull out my laptop to plan my fall schedule before an avalanche of coursework returns.
Western Dining- Kelly
Groups of students flock to Western Dining for lunch. The line is almost out the door.
A cashier scrambles to charge them and manage the line. A woman in a red shirt stands next to him, marking down the purchases.
Eventually, the line is gone. Everyone moves into the dining room to claim tables or join friends for lunch. The cashier sits down, clearly relieved.
A boy in a red sweatshirt comes up to him and they begin talking in Chinese. The boy sits next to the register and they look at the cashier's phone until the next wave of students comes through the door.
Once again, the line builds up and the cashier abandons his friend to swipe them in. And, once again, the line dwindles until it disappears. The cashier goes back to talking to his friend and the woman in the red shirt leaves.
This cycle repeats itself about every 10 minutes, and the dining room steadily fills up.
A line longer than any before loops around the custom order station.
Faculty and students claim tables for themselves and friends. Employees bustle through the aisles, picking up garbage and plates. Others stand behind the counters of food, replacing containers of food like clockwork.
A man walks past the various food stations. He doesn't take any food, or even carry a plate. Instead, he snaps pictures of the food, workers and diners. No one takes notice of him.
Eventually, he leaves. Next goes the cashier's friend. Diners trickle out steadily, finished with their meals.
The cashier sits alone at the entrance to the room, idly scrolling through his phone and waiting for the next wave of hungry students.
Americas - Joey Hart
The place is crowded with around 30 patrons and the loud buzz of conversation. Most people are eating in groups and there are only a handful of lone diners.
A trio of girls suddenly walks in the door, each fumbling with hands full of different-sized packages. The girls struggle to bring the boxes to a large table in the back, drop them on top and proceed to walk to the ordering line.
Three boys sitting up front are all wearing red shirts and khakis, seemingly by accident, as they shoot the breeze and talk about the content of their phones.
Two girls beside me talk about a mutual friend.
"I was blown away," one says.
"She always tweets the same thing," the other responds, showing her friend her computer screen.
"Like what?"
"I'm trying to find a good one. She doesn't even tag people; she just says their name."
"Oh, look at his. Oh, that's dumb."
"His tweets are pieces of shit."
"My dad could have said that."
Laughter.
Written by Kelly Burns, Audrey Davis, Joey Hart, Alison Perelman and Kevin Vestal