A Public Note of Apology for Dumping Hot Soup on Soup Kitchen Patrons and yelling “NO SOUP FOR YOU!”

Believe me when I say, everyone makes mistakes. But mine were the gravest and what happened this past March taught me a lesson I will not soon forget. The only thing that’s keeping me going at this point is the belief that all sins are considered equal.

To give some context behind my thought process during that time, I had just finished watching the classic Seinfeld episode “Soup Nazi”. The catchphrase “no soup for you!” was one I could not control my laughter or my actions upon hearing. This is why on the cold, frigid morning of March 7th, I drove to McCaftery’s Soup Kitchen for the Homeless and Needy with gloves in compartment and evil in my heart. As I pulled in the parking, my fleeting consciousness whispered, “Don’t flip that soup”. But did I listen? Sadly, no.

I entered the room and gazed upon the dirty gross trash people. They looked sad. I knew some good ol’ slapstick herky jerky humor would turn those frowns upside down. As I made my way to the kitchen, a scruffy bearded man stared and I shouted at him, “Don’t look at me you smelly garbage rat!” (in retrospect, another regrettable choice.) I shoved him away, gloves on hand, and swung upon the kitchen door, to find the jackpot. One large tub of hot, boiling Split Pea and Ham soup. Without thinking, and without hearing the shouts “Hands off the soup!” I swooped like a hawk, no, a soup hawk, and I grabbed the piping hot soup.

I got on the table, and like a valiant fighter plane, I strafed the homeless with the blistering hot soup. After about thirty seconds of burning these dirty trash men, I realized that the soup had been poured. I glowed on the inside. This was the moment I’ve been waiting for, the joke I was meant to deliver. I belted as loud as I could “NO SOUP FOR YOU!” Now this is where a seemingly routine story takes a strange turn, as no one laughed at my joke. Perhaps, the homeless had not seen the episode and did not get the reference, or maybe my delivery was off. But as I looked at the skin melting off the faces of the homeless I realized I had made a terrible mistake.

As I remember this event through a punishment of 50 community service hours (thanks for the lawyer, daddy!) I realized that not even a six figure trust fund and three semesters at Cornell makes me better than the dirty trash people. To the whole trash community, I am deeply sorry for what I did to you.