Macrobiotic? Vegan? Gluten free? Forget it. The foodservice during our undergraduate days was basic, to say the least. In fact, even politically incorrect: pork often appeared on Fridays, just in time to offend two major religions. And what exactly was the composition of “mystery meat”? (Inquiring young minds always wanted to know.) However, we were pre-mall consumers, with no notion that a wide array of choices was possible, since we had grown up in the days before food courts. Either we ate the one entrée offered to us, or were shown the highway. Also, although we may not have known it, we were in the twilight years of house-by-house foodservice, and the Greylock Quad was the harbinger of things to come. At the very least, in order to accommodate our outsized, male adolescent appetites, evening snacks were always available consisting of the essentials for making PP & J sandwiches on enriched white bread, along with milk and “bug juice”. The latter beverage was a sweet, fruity punch of suspiciously unnatural color and flavor. When a roach flowed out of the bug juice dispenser at Brooks House one night, our worst fears (and nightmares) were realized.