Berkley Donut Girl

At one point in our lives, we are probably going to be in a situation we didn't expect. Perhaps, even, a situation mildly ironic given the circumstances. Sometimes however, these random, freak occurrences develop and blossom into something beautiful.

Berkley Donut Girl was one such thing. I can't say I find her more than mildly attractive. Nor does she have a personality that is admirably engaging to me. However in the right creative whirlwinds, Berkley Donut Girl was something amazing.

It started as an obsession. Not with a second-generation Asian immigrant working for her parents, no, an obsession with donuts. I like them. A lot. During second-semester of my senior year, this obsession was kindled into a passion, burning with the white hot intensity of a grease filled deep-fryer. Donut holes, old-fashioned, éclairs, bear claws, all the donuts you could imagine! Did I want chocolate frosting? White? Maple? Even the rare treat, Pink? Should I get one with sprinkles? Without? Perhaps cream filled, or jelly-filled, stuff to the brim with delicious oozing custard?

I was young, I was in love, and my body could handle the massive amounts of fat. Soon, though, my frequent (read: nearly daily) visits began to be noticed. Though sometimes the counter of nirvanic goods was manned by her vaguely metro sexual brother, who's flair for scarves was truly something to me admired, more often; it was Berkley Donut Girl who worked weekday mornings. And first it began as a simple hello, how are you, what would you like today, etc. Eventually it delved into (for me) more serious topics like why I always chose white sprinkles, or my reasoning behind preferring glazed jelly-filled to the chocolate custard-filled, why I bought three or four donuts (Jon's stomach can attest to this fact). Eventually this developed into mutual intellectual discourse.

Inevitably, it grew to be a symbiotic relationship -- Berkley Donut Girl's gentle ribbing at my lackluster parking job as I approached the shop, her curiosity as to how I was doing, what was going on in school that day, the results of that test I told her about last Thursday, her wondering why I hadn't come in for three days. These things brightened my morning, woke me up, and set the tone for the rest of my day. Similar to her genuine curiosity at my life, I began to learn things about her; she graduated a math major from Berkley and was now working for her parent's store as was tradition in her family/culture, how she liked the shop, but found its customers dull. I like to think that my faithful visits served as a somewhat comforting way to greet the day, and a break from the monotonous "I'd like a maple sprinkle please" conversation she usually dealt with.

The way she engaged people, really talked to them not just your usual storekeeper flair made me really feel for her. This bright, lonely intellectual toiling away with grease fryers, dutifully helping her family, her own ambitions placed aside, reaching out for mental and social stimulation that her life was so lacking. A bright star of curiosity and friendliness in the most unlikely of places, one that has helped me better understand people, their positions, developed my sense of sympathy, and truly taught me see the benefits in all that I interact with.

I saw Berkley Donut Girl today at the JC. I said hello to her. I didn't have the heart to tell her that she had changed my life.