Dear Bear’s Den,

I want to start by saying that I will never be able to recount all of the magnificent times I have spent within your walls. Whether I was grabbing a bite to eat, stopping by on the way to check my mail, or simply taking a break to say hello to some friends, you were always there for me. When I heard that you would be torn down this summer, BD, my heart itself was torn down a bit, and I know that this is a sentiment I was not alone in feeling.

The first time I entered through your glass doors was as a pre-frosh visiting Wash. U. for the first time, with Jennifer, a family friend from home. I only had some chicken tenders and fries, but I had a feeling right then and there that you would have a special place in my life.

I didn’t come back until I arrived at school for pre-orientation on Aug. 17, 2008. I was sitting in my room, feeling weird about being in college when I heard some chatter down the hall: “Does anyone want to get some food?” I scrambled out of my room, eager to make friends with my floor. Megan, Alex (soon to be Lunch Box), Kevin and I shared our first meal together as students of Washington University in St. Louis and would never have had such an experience without you, BD.

Being a freshman, it was within your walls that I ate with the most frequency. I always came by during my breaks first semester, because it was the only time your dining area was quiet. I would sit and do work or read StudLife while I ate a delicious sandwich (often the tomato-basil mozzarella—sometimes with bacon…mmm) or some pasta, occasionally with chicken tenders chopped up and sprinkled on top.

Dinner times were easily the most crowded; I always found it humorous that one could go for dinner between 5:45 and 6 and hardly encounter a crowd, but by 6:30 would usually have to wait a minimum of about 15 minutes. Obviously, getting food in a timely manner was never your draw. I always ran into someone I knew, and even made several new friends in your crowded food area. There are some people I never would have seen at all this year if it weren’t for regular encounters we’d have grabbing food. The long lines that often built up around this time—lines which hardly seemed to move—were always great places to have long, intricate discussions. I sometimes felt that someone could hold a Socratic dialogue while waiting in your taqueria line.

Your staff could almost always be counted on to brighten up our days: Your workers became just as much regular parts of my life as any of my other scholastic acquaintances. In particular, I always enjoyed talking with Amber (if my memory serves me well) late at night in the checkout line, obviously tired from a long day but always in an incredibly happy mood. Another thing I know I’ll miss are the oh-so-regular “Bird call!”s and “Swingin hot!”s that I may never hear again.

This is not to say that I never tired of your offerings. There is only so much a person can do with pasta, sandwiches, quesadillas, pizza, fried food and burgers. Sadly, I never had a salad from your long salad line, though I did have my fair share of greens whenever I would trek upstairs to Center Court (an area which shall be equally missed). But despite an occasionally boring menu, I believe that the call to add buffalo fries to the menu was the single greatest decision ever made under your roof.

But regardless of the great meals (occasionally) and great conversations (always), nothing you provided for our student body can be compared to BD after dark. By 1:30 or 2 on a Friday or Saturday night (I suppose that would be a Saturday or Sunday morning), you were always filled to the brim with people. Fries and tenders were consumed voraciously by anyone with available meal points, as the B&D gentlemen kindly watched to make sure no one was belligerent. The full Wash. U. experience required at least one interaction with your drunken patrons, and perhaps even the slightly impaired staff (or were they just tired from such long hours?). Some say that to understand the epic nature of this occurrence, one had to be somewhat impaired oneself, but I know from experience that it was equally entertaining with a clear head.

So, Bear’s Den, I want to thank you for all of the great memories. I don’t know how they can replace you. You have provided a location for me to waste, no, spend—and spend willingly—hours of my life eating, chatting and goofing off, and it all really feels like time well spent. I don’t know how the South 40 eating system will work this year, and I am living in the Village anyway, but you will always hold a prominent role in my memories of freshman year. Here’s to you, Bear’s Den. Thank you for everything.

With utmost sincerity and love,
Chase Ferree

Chase is a sophomore in Arts & Sciences. He can be reached at [email protected]