The other day, I replied to a snarky comment about bluezones. The unnamed sacrilegious offender said something along the lines of, “Why does everyone always order a bluezone? Why are they so special?” My reply was immediate, heartfelt, and I spoke the truth from the instinct in my soul: “A bluezone is a state of mind.”
To dissect that statement, there are several layers that need to be addressed: First of all, ordering food is a pleasure not everyone can partake in often. This raises the quality of the experience simply because it is rarer. For those who order on a regular basis, a single bluezone is too much for one meal (not that that little fact has stopped me from eating entire boxes, but that’s a separate story).
As a corollary to the first point, Tufts is a community – we may be a bunch of awkward, “quirky” (blech), sometimes introverted individuals, but we are still human. Mostly. And as humans (?) we are social, and part of that socialization is around food. Where do awkward and lonely freshmen go when they are not lost and looking for classes? To Carmichael or Dewick in large herds. Group chats are filled with constant queries of “Carm?” Clubs, sports, and activities all conclude their practices and meetings with mass exoduses to Dewick, claiming entire long tables for themselves. As a community, eating together is living together. Living together is sharing. Sharing, is a bluezone.
When one orders a food, one notifies friends, to see if they would like to split a dish, or to tack on their own orders in the Grubhub queue. A bluezone is the crossover between cost, quality, community, and a shared experience.
But one cannot simply eat a bluezone any time. Therein lies the paradoxical relationship Tufts students have with the glorious dish – by being special, it can only be consumed sparingly. Like the first few days of being home on break, where home food is comforting, warm, filling, and just an all-around great experience, the bluezone can only nourish the soul when it is elevated to the status that it is, and treated with the most holy of hands.
But how, in economic terms, can Tufts students deal with the supply and demand issues that arise from a pleasurable form of worship, that becomes less and less valuable as it occurs? And we come back to the bluezone state of mind.
To order a bluezone, and have it be consumed by the body, to heal the mind, fill the stomach, and weld the community, one must order a bluezone when one is hungry, warm, and ready to, in the words of the JumboBeat editor gRillz, “treat yo self.”
A bluezone state of mind can occur when one takes the time to see old friends, to bond with new ones, or any time when a group communally has that warm happy feeling.
A bluezone is the ultimate convergence of what we really look for as college students. There may be bumps along the way, work that needs to be done, finances that need to be addressed, but one that special day, on that day when you are tired, happy, and ready to be just that little bit pampered, you are in a bluezone state of mind.
Submission to Jumbo Beat courtesy of Gabriel Bird, Tufts Class of 2019, Official Sophomore Class Bluezone Connoisseur. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.