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A Love Letter to Our Lost Qdoba

Our dearest, Qdoba, It has only been four days since our departure. With every new rising sun, we yearn for your loving, non-judgmental doors to open once more. For though you are lost to us in this physical world, you will stay in our weary hearts forever. Let us not forget that fateful morn, when we got the horrific news upon our Facebook feeds that you will be lost to us. With the news spreading like wildfire, our grief intensified and crashed over us like a strong wave. With such strong emotions, our only way of coping was to honor this spot the way the great Vikings of old did. The young and bereaved population of Oakland decided to hold a candlelight vigil for this hallowed ground. For this spot had weaved itself into the fabric of Oakland, and into our cholesterol filled arteries.

Let us not forget that fateful night on August 22nd, 2016, when you, darling Qdoba first made headlines. That fateful night, when a young college boy who the campus would later call, ‘Spiderman’, got stuck between you and your neighbor, Bruegger’s Bagels. We recall Spiderman trying to jump between you – in a noble but idiotic attempt to court a dame he had met the previous night. While we are not sure if he did indeed impress that young maiden, we do know that a hole had to be cut within your very walls, our beloved Qdoba. We remember those brutal months in which you were out of commission for many moons. However, while you and your delectable bowls were taken from our grasps, your notoriety grew, and you soon became the beloved landmark of Oakland. My darling, how many times have you been the saving grace to late night study hours? How many times have you been the only thing that kept the community together in times of distress? My beloved, how often you have been the only thing that could satiate the drunken hunger of many a student, and have carried the weary home after a deluge of South O romps. Truly, I tell you, I have never seen such a beauty so full of grace and wonder. Your fluorescent lamps have lit the way home, and only furthered the beauty of the Queen Mother, Cathy. My darling, my desires ever burn for you, even if the stove does not.

I think of that fateful night often, dear, when we walked through the hateful cold, so we may get to walk through your doors one last time. So that we may taste the intoxicating queso upon our lips before the last bowl was tossed into the waste bin. Upon coming up to your dominion, we found the line to be out the door. So many friends you had. So many lovers that came to pay their respects in your final hours. It brought a tear to my eye. We walked through that line, attempting to commit every detail to memory, because we knew that this was the end. The queso was drawn, and passed to all your devotees. So many came in fact, that within the hour none was left for the other mourners. All that were left were your elegantly clear and plastic cups. As the evening passed, we all trickled out, as tears streamed down our faces. Shall we know a love like this again? Perhaps not, but as the great Lord Tennyson once said: “Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”

My beloved, perhaps this campus never deserved you. Perhaps we will never stop grieving. But rest assured, we will never forget you. Our love will never cease, even till the end of days.

With all our love,

The University of Pittsburgh

A FL native, attempting to survive the Pitt weather. If I'm not out fighting the patriarchy, I'm probably watching Classic Disney films and/or searching for some decent Latin food.
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