I’m Still Not Hungry
WILL SOMEONE PLEASE HIT ME WITH A BRICK if I ever suggest going to another “All You Can Eat” buffet for Thanksgiving Dinner.
It was just the four of us at our table – Me, my wife, the lovely and eternally practical, Dawn, our son, Alex, and the spirits of Genghis Khan and his Horde – all of us eating until we blacked out.
Why is it that all sense of Reason and Proportion disappear when confronted with an endless supply of Mashed Potatoes and Roast Turkey? A nearby mountain of Crab Cakes doesn’t help either.
Going through the line and loading up on Turkey, Mashed Potatoes, Dressing, and a few Green Beans (The token vegetables) should have been enough. But it wasn’t. Was it really necessary for me to go back a second time and construct a pyramid of Catfish, Crab Cakes, Mac and Cheese, and a small lake of Spicy Cocktail Sauce?
Trust me for future reference – Crab Cakes garnished with Mac and Cheese don’t mix well once inside the human gastro-intestinal tract.
There was a Cheese Ball there the size of Andre The Giant’s head. Then Alex saw it. It is now about as big as a Titleist golf ball. That young man can eat, but he never seems to put on weight. If I tried that I would look like a White Rhino in boots and blue jeans. He must have the metabolism of a Bessemer Furnace.
Last Thursday after one too many raids on the buffet line I took a breather and contemplated the potential damage involved in a visit to the Dessert Line. It did take a couple of minutes for me to lift myself out of my chair, but I did and waddled off in the direction of all those pies and cakes. I never got there. I was waylaid by a large Raspberry Cobbler. I had to wrestle a ten year old kid to get control of the ice cream scoop to make my dish complete. His tears moved me not.
We spent about ninety minutes in there laying the groundwork for a famine in some third world country. Our only regret was that we forgot to smuggle in a few Ziploc Bags so we could sneak out with some goodies for a pointless midnight snack.
The ride home was about 45 minutes and Dawn suggested that we might need to sing all the way home just to stay awake. I had my head hanging out of the car window like a St. Bernard. I now know all of the words to “Who Let The Dogs Out.”
Once we got home we were immediately transformed into furniture. I became an overstuffed sofa and Dawn turned into a Recliner. Alex was looking for a snack.
It was about 9 PM when I realized that we had not eaten since the Noontime Pillaging of the Buffet. I was not hungry. I still felt like I could have been entered in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade as one of the balloons – “Buffet Man! He leaps tall hot trays in a single bound!”
It is a good thing that these holidays come along only a few times a year or I might be doing some serious damage to my slim, svelte, and even waif-like figure. Those “Barbarian Sack of Rome” buffets can be truly dangerous places. The way I feel right now I think that I’m good until Groundhog Day. I won’t eat again until I can see my shadow…or my toes.