Satire | Sights and smells of Oakland: An observation of the elusive college student’s average Friday night

Like one in 10 Pitt students, I don’t go out on the weekend that much. I go to parties my club has, and birthday and holiday parties, but I’m not one to frequent SAE basements on the regular. Mostly, I’m just trying to ignore my neighbors’ parties, as I unfortunately live near Party Central — Semple Street. 

One Friday night recently, however, I, unfortunately, forgot to get dinner until pretty late, so I found myself walking to Cane’s at 1:30 in the morning when they close at 2. I thought I was just going to get some chicken tenders and fries, but I ended up getting so much more out of it. So, for all of you missing out on this essential college experience, here are my field notes from my night in the wild. 

Off the bat, I walked up to find a circle of people smoking inches from the door, making the entryway smell like a party. This is the pre-Cane’s experience for most of their customers. It just makes it taste better. 

Then, upon entering, the very first thing I saw was a guy throwing up in the trashcan right in front of the door. I thought that he wasn’t at first until I heard it. This is a classic activity most students find themselves doing at some point or other during the average weekend. It’s often done to keep the party going when the only thing that should be going is you — home. 

The next thing I noticed was a guy who spilled his lidless drink near the door to Cane’s. He went to leave until his friends ridiculed him into poorly cleaning it up. This is what I believe the frats call hazing. Or, he was just a jerk. Either-or, I suppose. 

The other thing you might see would be people, for some reason, openly hitting their carts in the dining area, adding to the smell from the people smoking outside. They seem to breathe 50% oxygen, 50% “other.” This is part of their nightly routines, I believe. The Cane’s smoke circle goes hard every Friday night, as far as I can tell. 

The crazy thing is, they weren’t even bothering people as much as the couple that was so all over each other that I’d honestly be surprised if they didn’t make a baby in the bathroom there that night. 

The crowd was intense. Even if you’re used to waiting in crowds of people for your food at the Chick-fil–A at the Pete or something, you’re not ready for this. It’s much more like a rave than a restaurant, so you have to follow rave rules. Do anything to survive, don’t trust anyone and keep an eye on your wallet. 

I mobile ordered before I arrived and then received a notification that my order was ready, so I pushed my way to the front of the line to check the mobile ordering shelf, but there was nothing to be found. Tons of other people were doing the same, leading to complete bedlam at the counter, as none of our orders were, in fact, ready. It gave us hope, before ripping it away from us quicker than it came. You need to have tough skin to survive Friday night at Cane’s. Friday night is Blood Night. 

The second guy who came up to search for his mobile order got increasingly concerned as his phone battery dipped lower and lower. He asked me to take a picture of his confirmation number, but I was at three percent, so I wasn’t going to be of any help. He got the girl next to us to take a picture of it instead, who was at seven percent. It was a phone graveyard, but we were trying to keep morale up, even as the minutes passed by and so few meals were being passed out. It felt like we would be stuck there forever. Or at least until Cane’s closed. 

And then it happened. 40 people or so are waiting for their food, and 2 a.m. hits. They’re closed, but there are still three guys that have been standing near the ordering area for a while. I hear the cashier ask the guy calling out everyone’s names what to do about them. He shouts out, “Last call! You guys have one more minute to order, hurry up!” The guys finally order. They probably waited for their food for at least 30 minutes or so. The Cane’s employees are so goated for that, honestly. I would be trying to get home at that point, but they all held steadfast in their assigned positions, not satisfied with leaving until every order had been filled. A passion that I sorely hope to imitate one day. 

The third mobile order guy to show up was tightly holding a smell-proof drug bag, all while he demanded to know where his food was, desperate to escape without being found out. Or, more likely after seeing everything I’ve seen tonight, to consume whatever was in there in the Cane’s lobby, like half of Oakland did that night. 

Honorable mentions include the guy towards the front of the line standing in a puddle of soda with a lidless cup in his hand. I think he was jostled. And, when the guy calling out names turned around to grab some orders, one guy reached out and stole a large cup from the stack, then kept standing there waiting for his order like nothing happened. 

And, finally, on the way home, I came upon a group of young men who were, ironically, indiscriminately shouting slurs at anyone who walked by, including me. They were massive jerks. But, despite the Hunger Games-esque conditions I endured, the Cane’s really was phenomenal. All of it was totally worth it to me, especially since I wasted time waiting for my order by putting every crazy thing I saw in my notes app despite my waning phone battery. I only made up one of the things I wrote about here, and I won’t tell you which one. You’ll just have to go to Cane’s in the middle of the night and find out for yourself. 

Alaina McCall writes things. They are going to be a famous writer very soon. Or they’re going to cry. Give them Cane’s gift card access codes at mccallalaina@gmail.com