I could smell the popcorn chicken and the loaded vegetable pizza as I casually crept into Putnam’s—my stomach a vacuum, bereft of nourishment, my heart an abyss, bereft of hope. I snatched and pocketed some saltines, in packaged pairs, barely 50 calories combined.

I passed by Sunset Strips and could almost taste those delectable chicken fingers. I wanted to douse them in a melting pot of that sweet honey-mustard and swallow them whole, but I was not giving up yet! With one quick, inconspicuous move, I had my hands on a bleu cheese dressing cup—saltines crumbling in my pocket—and I was out the door. It was lunchtime.

Call me Aladdin, call me a University at Buffalo street-rat, but check out my stomach and my wallet last week—you’ll see that my stomach was sufficiently fed without opening that wallet. You might think I’m stingy or in need of a diet, but I assure you that I am neither. The truth is, I did it for you. I sacrificed what few would sacrifice so that I can show you what few know: how to eat free for a week at UB.

If you’re a devout dining hall subscriber clinging to those 14-per-week meal plans, this may not yet apply to you—yet. Keep this issue in a safe place for mid-November, when your dining dollars are wholly depleted. You might need it.

Day One: Monday, October 1

I was meeting my brother Josh for lunch in the Student Union when I fell into a massive line for free pizza. They had a stack nearly three feet high of Franco’s sheet pizzas, and a couple of girls sporting disposable plastic gloves handing out free squares to all.

It was about one o’clock and I had skipped breakfast, so my hungry eyes went wild at the prospect of that warm dough, soft sauce and melted cheese combo. I grabbed a square and found my brother sitting at a table above a $2.50 slice of pizza from Putnam’s. Yeah, it was a little bigger than my portion and it was an actual slice, but what’s in a shape?

The girl at the pizza table was too busy to remember faces, so I had her deal me out a couple more saucy squares before I decided I was full. This lunch kept me going through the next few hours until about five o’clock, when I resolved to find some free dinner.

Hillel, the foundation for Jewish campus life, was still open on the second floor of the Commons so I walked in and asked for some food. Not only did they generously offer their refrigerated leftovers, but they also invited me to hookah night in the Commons that evening which provided me with even more free food. Now, I’m not going to pretend that anyone can get away with raiding the Hillel fridge, but they always have leftovers, and seemed willing to share.

I showed up to share the hookah later that night, took a few puffs (orange flavored tobacco is exceptional, by the way), and nearly ate myself sick with pita and hummus. At about nine when the hookah bowls were empty, and the coals burnt to ash, I left the Commons to swing by the ATM between the Union and Knox, where I noticed a few guys sitting in that room across the hall with considerable amounts of food, and nobody was eating it!

Given my mission, even though I might have eaten thirty pita slices and was stuffed, I walked in and asked them if they would offer me what was to be my third dinner. Little did I know it was the middle of Ramadan, the Muslim holy month, when all who uphold the faith must fast from sunrise to sundown, every day of the month. To make it easier on some folks, the Muslim SA offers a free dinner every weeknight of Ramadan, in which I was fortunate enough to partake. It consisted of chicken, rice, veggies, and dates.

Day Two: Tuesday, October 2

Tuesday was no easy chore. I traversed the halls and wandered through buildings with my heavy backpack in tow, desperately searching for sustenance. I stole some saltines from the Corner Café between NSC and the Math building, which provided temporary, but unsatisfying relief.

As I was walking through Capen Hall about to give up, I stumbled upon an extreme bit of luck. I saw a teacher in a classroom holding what I believed to be one of the Franco’s pizza boxes from the day before. My reckless hunger insisted on approaching, and just when she was about to throw the remains into the trash in the hall, “Excuse me,” I said. “I believe you’re holding my lunch.”

I grabbed a couple of stale squares, threw them on a napkin I found, and shoved them into that ancient-looking microwave on the second floor of Capen. Lunch, again, was a success.

For dinner, I stopped by the Hillel office again, just for a snack to hold me over until the free Muslim SA dinner which I had every intention of attending. Unfortunately, I entered into an intense round of darts on Nintendo Wii with my roommates, lost track of time, and when I arrived back on campus, they were gone.

So I cheated. What did you want me to starve? I believe in journalistic integrity, but not in self-mutilation. I got a little Taco Bell.

Day Three: Wednesday, October 3

People teased me. Under the assumption that Spirit Week equals free food, they gave me hard time saying, “It’s gonna be easy this week!” Well, bite me. Because the only food I saw in the Union was Krispy Kreme doughnuts, two for a dollar—nothing free in sight.

Luckily, that day my class was in Alumni where I stumbled upon an ongoing job fair. I wasn’t sure if it was because Hershey was there recruiting, or because all the job representatives wanted to hand out free stuff, but nearly all of them had bowls of candy at their stations which soon became my breakfast.

Lunch was miserable, as I described above. I ate stolen saltines dipped in stolen bleu cheese. I almost broke down and gave up the whole project. I was weak and I couldn’t focus, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel—and it came around at dinnertime. Every week on Wednesday nights the Newman Center (Catholic Campus Ministry) in the Commons hosts a free dinner. They didn’t care that I’m Jewish, and at that point, neither did I. They had a fabulous home-cooked spaghetti and meatball dinner, with salad, brownies and even peanut butter cookies with the little Hershey kisses on top!

Day Four: Thursday, October 4

Thursday presented a bounty of complimentary treats. Thursday gave me full, balanced meals, unlike my saltine lunch the day before. Wandering into the Union around 1 a.m., I was told by a friend that the Wellness Center had some fine brunchy selections, including fruit, bagels, and four varieties of Danish: lemon, strawberry, blueberry, and apple. I had one of each.

As if UB hadn’t already given me enough free food, dinner that afternoon surpassed all other meals that week and proved that my mission was, indeed, a success. My superiors at Generation had informed me of an art showcase at the Center for the Arts that afternoon and it was recommended that I attend for the free food.

I got there early and walked down to the basement, where I was astounded at the sight of the spread. They had scores of shrimp, literally. I maybe had twenty or thirty of them. There were at least three different kinds of sushi, corn chips beside an ornate bean dip, a platter of vegetables with a ranch dressing centerpiece, sweet chocolate-topped éclairs, and vanilla cream puffs. They even had a wine and champagne. All free.

The next day I had to go home to Rochester and couldn’t stick around for the carnival, where, I can assure you, I would have eaten plentifully in celebration of the end of my near-tortuous mission. My victory celebration was instead a long-awaited Burger King combo meal.

I would sometimes blatantly tell people what I was doing, “…you see, I’m writing an article for Generation, and trying to eat free all week,” and I’d receive at least minimal amounts of free pity food. Few people are able to get away with this line, so don’t try it. And I wouldn’t recommend trying to eat exclusively free campus food because you often won’t get the required nutrition that the average college student needs. Saltines are only good when you mash them up in your soup, not for a meal on any kind of diet. Between Monday and Thursday I only spent about five dollars on food, but I did lose about five pounds from malnourishment—an amount of weight a six-foot-one, 150-pound kid can’t really afford to lose.

But you can get free meals on campus. Most of it is from SA clubs who get bits of your money anyways, so nobody is going to turn you away. Just keep your eyes—and maybe your nostrils—open when you walk around. Most of the time, if you’re short on cash, UB will be there and they will almost certainly feed you.

I mean, seriously, if the Catholics and the Muslims can both welcome an emaciated Jewish kid looking for a handout, the possibilities are endless.

Jon Sham is a senior English major and a Features writer for Generation.