Experiencing new customs broadens one’s horizon and creates an appreciation of the world’s diversity. Unfortunately, I hate planes and waiting in lines, so actually traveling is not a possibility. When I want to experience culture and ethnic foods, I head to Montgomery Mall.

Confined to a plot of land the size of most high schools, the mall is an amazing place containing as many ethnicities, demographics and cultures as the U.N.

One day during lunch period, I decided to head to Montgomery Mall. Hungry and lusting for new cultures after a marathon of the Travel Channel hit No Reservations: Anthony Bourdain the previous night, I honed my inner Jack Kerouac, hitched a ride from a friend and was on the road.

My driver was a senior football player, friend and fan of Dubstep: Odin Soevik—his preference for Dubstep should be emphasized. The drive was highlighted by a constant pulse of base and a frequency of melodies that left my body in an uncontrollable rave. Banging my head, raging and pounding the roof of the car with the thrust of my hand, the adrenaline rush pumped me up for my lunch.

After a thrilling journey down Westlake Drive, we screeched into the food court parking garage. All the occupied spaces filled with cars of different models, colors and ages foreshadowed the diversity to come.

Upon entering, I was overwhelmed by the options. Such a wide selection of restaurants with food spanning the globe left me with one method of determining which restaurant would be blessed my selection: free samples.

The welcoming gesture of a free sample is a staple of the mall experience. Fast food chains taking a little bit of food from their inventory to woo you to their cash registers is a beautiful thing in a tough economy. There is no act more generous than something free.

Luckily, at the entrance was the chicken teriyaki lady. With her tray in hand, her smile and her great posture, she truly looked like Lady Liberty. Like the gateway to Ellis Island in New York, this was a gateway to a land of promise and opportunity. I received the warm embrace of the lady with the same motto as the statue: “Give me your tired and your hungry.” But as I quickly took the sample, I felt guilty knowing that I was not going to get Japanese food today.

Today was time for a change. I felt adventurous. After all, I was experiencing other cultures. And after careful deliberation, and a wide eyed excitement of a boy in a candy store, I chose a country I had never experienced at the mall: Thailand.

I ordered, got my tray and grabbed my food. Now it was time to find a table. On my way to the CHS student section I passed many different groups of people ranging from the sketchy kids to people actually on a lunch break to senior citizens to students from rival high schools. After voyaging through the uncertain waters of other social circles, I found my proud class of 2012 and enjoyed my meal.

On the tray before me was mango chicken, fried rice and a Styrofoam cup of Sprite. The consistently tangy flavor of the mango chicken was followed by a satisfactory pucker of my lips. I would wash down each bite with a sip of Sprite. The citrus explosion combined with the heavenly flavor of chicken was the definition of perfection. The rice was a second fiddle to the main course but was truly a dynamic duo to the chicken and fizzy beverage.

And to think all other grade levels have the cafeteria food to look forward to. To express my superiority to all other classes, I brought my Styrofoam cup back to school. It is a symbol of seniority that tells everyone who does not have the privilege of going out to lunch that you just went out to lunch—a feeling of superiority similar to being granted a title of nobility during the reign of Louis XIV of France.

Enjoying our lavish meal and sharing a flurry of laughs we looked as glorious as the knights of the round table. But like the end of the feudal period in England, there was a denouement. It was time to go back to school.

The drive back was nowhere near as exciting. The pressure of punctuality was like a leech on our conscience. At least I had my cup.

The odyssey to the mall was like a journey to another continent. The only experience that could compare would be if the United Nations had a cook-off. The blend of flavors, styles and spices would be a treat that would only be comparable to world peace: something they just can’t seem to pull off.

I was worn out from my vacation. Maybe next time I’ll take it a little easier. I was thinking a trip to Cabin John Mall?