I can understand the fanaticism some people have about nuts. I’ve been told many a time that I’m missing out on a world of deliciousness.

True, I can’t quite make sense of the beauty of the nut, and never will. But, being that I am severely allergic, I don’t think it’s absurd for me to expect a certain level of understanding when it comes to the questionable food that I encounter. Just this past week, eating at one of the many … er, majestic … dining halls that Binghamton University has to offer, I stumbled upon not one or two, but five, FIVE, separate incidents of allergy ignorance.

Earlier this week, I was having lunch with a friend and decided to have some dessert. I went over to an ice cream machine and, perhaps I’m old-fashioned, but I expected to find some basic vanilla, chocolate, maybe even strawberry flavors inside. I guess I expected too much. The flavors instead went something like this: Rocky Road, Snickers, Peanut Butter and one lever that appeared label-less but I assume would have been a four for four, concluding the line-up with some Pecan Delight.

How is it that one of the most common allergens in this country is able to dominate a dessert configuration this way? I asked this question to someone who appeared to be the head of the dining hall staff and he answered: “Well, these machines are luck of the draw. We have no control over what flavors come out every day.” Essentially, he tried to paint a picture for me where every morning he approaches the machine, asks one of his employees to draw the curtain and — huzza! — the machine takes its cue and surprises the staff with whatever flavors it has chosen. Wow.

Even a mediocre bullshitter would be ashamed of that excuse.

Although that conversation/waste of breath took the prize this week, I also experienced more than a few other pleasant moments with the dining hall staff.

My favorites were those that involved me approaching a person serving food and asking if there were any nuts in whatever was being served. At that moment, on four separate occasions, these people looked up at me, shrugged and said “Well … I dunno, maybe, but I dun’ think so.” At this point I have said each time, “Would it be possible for you to find out? I’m allergic.” To which they shrugged once more, mumbled somewhat of an agreement and trudged through the doors behind them to return with a disgruntled yes or no.

Hell, at this point I think I should just stop pushing these poor people to find out for me. Next time, I’ll take their vague answers, eat whatever they serve then promptly pass out right next to them and let them do whatever they want with that situation. What sucks is that this is probably going to be an awkward circumstance for us both, but maybe it will prove itself more effective.