By Patrick Kayes, Guest Writer

Let me guide you through an experience quickly. Imagine, whether you’re outdoorsy or not, that you’re on a hike. 

A brisk, autumn wind blows around you. The changing colors of the leaves are bright against the blue, cloudy sky. It’s been a great day, a beautiful day with friends as you hike an easy trail to the peak of a gorgeous valley. The day starts to turn to night, and you all light a fire as the stars enter the sky. 

You’re having a great time, laughing, talking, eating hot dogs cooked fresh over the campfire until someone brings out that cursed bag of marshmallows. An ugly ending to a perfect night.

I’d like to think that I’m a man of many tastes, but I’d also like to think the people who enjoy s’mores are delusional. 

Now before all the campers in the room try to throw their hiking packs and Yeti coolers at me, I need to let you all in on a bias of mine. I’m not a chocolate person. I never have been and I never will be. It’s just personal taste.

“How can you judge a s’more if you’ve never eaten one with chocolate on it?” First, you aren’t funny. I’ve heard that one a lot. Second, it’s the only way I’ve ever eaten them. 

The three biggest criticisms against the s’more that are glaringly obvious to anyone that can see past the allure of that “great, outdoorsy treat!” are the messiness, dryness and downright blandness of the s’more. And don’t you worry, I’ll go into detail on each point — I know you were worried I wouldn’t. 

Even the messiest sandwich I’ve eaten has never once given me as much trouble as a routine s’more. S’mores have zero structural integrity. Chocolate drips on your hands, crumbs fall all over the place and white goo threatens to bind your fingers together. Even if you were to eat a s’more like a pro — like myself — without chocolate, you end up with crumbs all over your body and your hands stuck together. 

Speaking from experience, I despise going inside to wash my hands if I’m eating a s’more in someone’s backyard. God forbid I’m ever on an actual camping trip — I can only pray such a thing would never happen — and I eat a s’more. Because of the gross feeling of stickiness between my fingers, I’d have to wipe my fingers on the grass, get some water from a water bottle and rinse myself off. 

Ugh, so disgusting — save it for someone else. 

That all goes without emphasizing how dry a s’more is. Even with chocolate, there’s no chance that a s’more is refreshing. It’s like chewing a really sugary concoction of bark, bubblegum and sand — which I can say because as a baby I ate multiple handfuls of sand. I always feel like I need a full glass of water after I eat a s’more, and I can confidently say that if you don’t think you do too, you’re either a demon or made of water. 

There’s no way any sane person has enough moisture for one s’more at any point, let alone multiple. Adding on to the whole “s’mores are like sand” idea, from what I remember, they sure don’t just have the texture of sand — they taste like it too. I don’t think, in my 19 years of life, I have once finished an entire s’more. Bite one: illusion of sweetness. Bite two: you realize the texture, and bite three — if you manage to get there and don’t quit after bite two — it’s just more of the same terrible thing.

So in conclusion, if you like chocolate, marshmallows and graham crackers roasted and stacked vertically, then you’re a nerd. Oh, and if you try to defend them you’re a bigger nerd! Got you!