My love affair with Panera started in high school. One of my good friends had an overprotective mother, so to hang out, we had to do so right after school. She would tell her mother she was staying after school for an extracurricular reason, but in reality we were booking it from the parking lot at 2:05 p.m. and heading for the sandwich and salad (not to mention pastry, bagel and smoothie) promised land: Panera.
We used to pretend to take other options into consideration, but it quickly became an unspoken fact that Panera would be our destination of choice. Not only was it close to our school, but it had a homey warmth that only the real plates and silverware and earth-tone color scheme could provide. And as an added bonus, we didn't even have to tip anyone.
After ordering our food, we would wait for our buzzers to begin dancing with red lights and then find a booth nestled between suburban soccer moms on a pre-elementary school pick-up coffee date and stressed out businessmen taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi.
Maybe because of the local coffee shop feel - despite the fact Panera's a huge national chain - or maybe because it felt so much like someone's home, we quickly forgot about the hustle and bustle around us and would delve right into what I would call a major life talk.
Now these were not the kinds of talks we could have at any public venue - it was the kind of talk we'd usually reserve for one of our basements. Whether it was about boys, problems with overly-dramatic girls, impending college decisions or the location of our future homes, we would connect on a deeper level about it at Panera.
Fast forward to first-year move-in day. My life was becoming quickly embedded with symbolism a movie director could only dream of: For most of the afternoon it was pouring rain, a symbol of renewal and fresh starts. When my dad asked me where I wanted to eat lunch during the final hours before I would have to say goodbye to him and my mom for six weeks, I clung to my comfort restaurant, and we went to Panera. As I walked into the Barracks Road restaurant, my nerves were calmed because that homey atmosphere that I loved so much in Fairfax was present in Charlottesville. I knew things would be OK.
Fast forward one more time to just last Friday, when my roommate and two of our mutual friends wanted to do dinner together. First we decided since we all have kitchens, we should make an effort to cook ourselves dinner, because that's what self-respecting second years do. Once we realized all we had was a Magic Bullet blender and Parmesan cheese, however, we knew we would have to seek sustenance elsewhere.
Chipotle? Too crowded and loud on a Friday night, we decided.
Boylan? We really didn't want to walk that far in the cold.
As soon as I suggested Panera, one of my friends began jumping up and down in the air as though she had just found out school was canceled on a snow day.
"We have to go there!" she exclaimed.
Thus it was unanimously decided that Panera would be our destination of choice. Panera is a favorite spot of mine to reunite with high-school friends when I'm at home, but this was the first time I had been to the Panera in Barracks since move-in day first year - shocking, I know.
As I walked through the door, as corny as this may sound, I realized how much my life has changed since that day in August 2009. Not only am I allowed to have a car on Grounds, I am a part of organizations that helped me find the friends I am able to dine with at Panera today.
After mulling over the menu for a bit, I stuck to my classic order of a Chicken Caesar Sandwich and proudly whipped out my "MyPanera" membership card. We then found a nice booth away from the drink machine and piled in. It didn't take the four of us long to begin having an in-depth conversation about recent events in our lives, much like the ones I used to have with my friend back in high school.
Maybe I thought the dinner was great because I went out to dinner with four people I'd feel comfortable telling most anything to, but I have a feeling that Panera's warm and fuzzy atmosphere and special place in my heart as my comfort restaurant had a little something to do with that.
Katie's column runs biweekly Fridays. She can be reached at k.urban@cavalierdaily.com.
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