It’s 6:24 p.m. on Sunday night, I’m starving, and I haven’t moved from my bed in hours. Maybe I’m tired from a long week of tests and studying. Maybe I’m still hungover from the weekend. Maybe it’s some kind of weird combination of the two. Whatever the cause, the plight at hand remains: I’m hungry and lazy, what do I do?

Then, as it occurred with most revolutionary inventors before me, an earth-shattering idea pops into my head: call Tigers to Go.

Tigers To Go

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Hastily, I spring out of bed like a wild predator searching for her prey. But, in this case the only thing I’m searching for is the device needed to place my order: my laptop. Luckily, being the lazy sloth I am, it is not a far reach as it sits entangled in my sheets from the lazy hours of Netflix and Internet surfing spent before this. Feverishly, I type in the web address and the real adventure begins.

Tigers To Go

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“Holy ****, there are so many options.”

“Do I want Mexican or Chinese? Pizza or a hamburger?”

“I’m slightly concerned why I haven’t heard of all these restaurants.”

“This is easily the most stressed I’ve been all day.”

“I would like to personally contact the people who order Waffle House from this site and force them to reevaluate.”

Tigers To Go

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I scan the menus diligently, as I know this order is a make-or-break for the rest of my evening plans. Filtering out all bland fast-food chains and restaurants I’ve never heard of, I land on one option: Red Bowl, a classic but safe option that is sure to satisfy. I place my order, confidently. I hear a slight wale from my bank account but I know this will all be worth it soon. Check the time stamp: 45 minute wait. Ugh. Now the waiting game commences.

Tigers To Go

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I pace. I sit. I stand. I try to do homework. Just kidding, let’s not get crazy.

“Has time ever passed this slow?”

“I think I’ve refreshed my Instagram feed 30 times in the last 10 minutes.”

“I could have made my own orange chicken by now. Ok probably not, but still.”

And then…

Tigers To Go

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I hear a subtle but confident knock on the door. I fly down the stairs at a speed that might worry Usain Bolt and throw the door open.

“Hi, Tigers to Go here, I have a Red Bowl order for you?”

I fight off all my urges to kiss this small, acne-ridden angel and calmly pluck my food out of his hands. This is truly the best thing that has happened to me all day. I rip the bag open and competitively eat my meal as if I’ve never seen food before.

Tigers To Go

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Thank you, Tigers to Go, for being my God-sent beacon of hope in times of desperation and my only outlet when I’m just too hungry and lazy to find food for myself.