For Posterity
Friday, April 1:
I don't remember how it started or whose idea it was. We had a campfire, we had a 24 pack of hotdogs, We had two determined contestants who claimed they had eaten dinner and were full. This is just one of those scenarios that springs fully formed into the mind of a young person with nothing better to do: Katie and Nick would have an eating contest.
Matt and Cromer started roasting dogs, four at a time. Katie started off fast, downing her first four well before Nick. There was no time limit, so he was free to take the slow and steady approach. Besides, Katie could never sustain such a pace for long, could she? It was decided that eleven dogs was the goal, 2 having already been eaten by noncontestants. The last dog was also to be eaten with a bun. Just because.
The weiners disappeared. A draw. All the available food was divided into half and bravely devoured. The party brainstormed, searching for a way to break the tie. A speed eating contest. Laps around the lake, a race across the lake. Punches to the stomach until, well, the inevitable. Edible reinforcements were called in, then cancelled. Concerned, we started to suggest to our dear friends that there was no dishonor in quitting, a draw being a most sensible decision in the circumstances. The two were in pain, but it soon came apparant that neither would admit defeat, nor would Katie accept a draw. The winner this night would be decided by knockout.
We put out the fire and moved the contest to an establishment loved, and yet feared by binge eaters everywhere.
TACO BELL.
Our tally so far?
11 hot dogs (last one with bun), 3 graham crackers, 4 marshmallows, 1 Sunny D, 7 saltine crackers, 1 can of Coke, 1 cookie. Each.
The Taco Bell trip was fueled by threats of massive burritos, but by our arrival it was apparant that the end was already in sight, so two soft tacos and two cups of water were ordered. Katie drained her water before Nick, as they set about joylessly eating. Katie VERY nearly lost it halfway through, but pulled it together. They finished. It was midnight, Taco Bell was closing, and we had to vacate.
We needed to end this. The endgame would be glasses of milk at ten paces (actually, no more than two paces from a large trash can). Again, Katie came out strong and emptied her glass while Nick was still contemplating his. They clinked glass number two together in a silent toast (to what? to stupidity, to stubbornness, to each other?) and drank. After it was finished, Nick told us that that was it; he wouldn't be able to take any more. Then, just to make it official, Nick's face got pale, his eyes wide, and out it all came. He puked. The man did a good job of hitting the trash can, I'll give him that. Relief.
One final gulp of milk, and Katie was the unquestionable victor. After celebrating, she then proceeded to the bathroom to rid herself of all she had worked so hard to consume. A bit of an anticlimax, I guess, but, she assured us, that was better than going to bed with a swollen, painful stomach.
I swear, Katie is so freaking hardcore, sometimes I just can't believe it. This girl rocks, and she did it all with a smile on her face. I have to hand it to Nick, as well. He went the distance, but in the end Katie's sheer tenacity and will won out.
Elapsed time: about two hours.
The final tally:
11 hot dogs (last one with bun), 3 graham crackers, 4 marshmallows, 1 Sunny D, 7 saltine crackers, 1 can of Coke, 1 cookie, 1 glass of water, 1 soft taco, 2 glasses of milk. Each.
Yeah, it was an incredibly stupid thing to do, but I almost wish I had done it. Could I have kept pace, kept it all down and won? There will be other nights, and other incredibly stupid things to do.
I don't remember how it started or whose idea it was. We had a campfire, we had a 24 pack of hotdogs, We had two determined contestants who claimed they had eaten dinner and were full. This is just one of those scenarios that springs fully formed into the mind of a young person with nothing better to do: Katie and Nick would have an eating contest.
Matt and Cromer started roasting dogs, four at a time. Katie started off fast, downing her first four well before Nick. There was no time limit, so he was free to take the slow and steady approach. Besides, Katie could never sustain such a pace for long, could she? It was decided that eleven dogs was the goal, 2 having already been eaten by noncontestants. The last dog was also to be eaten with a bun. Just because.
The weiners disappeared. A draw. All the available food was divided into half and bravely devoured. The party brainstormed, searching for a way to break the tie. A speed eating contest. Laps around the lake, a race across the lake. Punches to the stomach until, well, the inevitable. Edible reinforcements were called in, then cancelled. Concerned, we started to suggest to our dear friends that there was no dishonor in quitting, a draw being a most sensible decision in the circumstances. The two were in pain, but it soon came apparant that neither would admit defeat, nor would Katie accept a draw. The winner this night would be decided by knockout.
We put out the fire and moved the contest to an establishment loved, and yet feared by binge eaters everywhere.
TACO BELL.
Our tally so far?
11 hot dogs (last one with bun), 3 graham crackers, 4 marshmallows, 1 Sunny D, 7 saltine crackers, 1 can of Coke, 1 cookie. Each.
The Taco Bell trip was fueled by threats of massive burritos, but by our arrival it was apparant that the end was already in sight, so two soft tacos and two cups of water were ordered. Katie drained her water before Nick, as they set about joylessly eating. Katie VERY nearly lost it halfway through, but pulled it together. They finished. It was midnight, Taco Bell was closing, and we had to vacate.
We needed to end this. The endgame would be glasses of milk at ten paces (actually, no more than two paces from a large trash can). Again, Katie came out strong and emptied her glass while Nick was still contemplating his. They clinked glass number two together in a silent toast (to what? to stupidity, to stubbornness, to each other?) and drank. After it was finished, Nick told us that that was it; he wouldn't be able to take any more. Then, just to make it official, Nick's face got pale, his eyes wide, and out it all came. He puked. The man did a good job of hitting the trash can, I'll give him that. Relief.
One final gulp of milk, and Katie was the unquestionable victor. After celebrating, she then proceeded to the bathroom to rid herself of all she had worked so hard to consume. A bit of an anticlimax, I guess, but, she assured us, that was better than going to bed with a swollen, painful stomach.
I swear, Katie is so freaking hardcore, sometimes I just can't believe it. This girl rocks, and she did it all with a smile on her face. I have to hand it to Nick, as well. He went the distance, but in the end Katie's sheer tenacity and will won out.
Elapsed time: about two hours.
The final tally:
11 hot dogs (last one with bun), 3 graham crackers, 4 marshmallows, 1 Sunny D, 7 saltine crackers, 1 can of Coke, 1 cookie, 1 glass of water, 1 soft taco, 2 glasses of milk. Each.
Yeah, it was an incredibly stupid thing to do, but I almost wish I had done it. Could I have kept pace, kept it all down and won? There will be other nights, and other incredibly stupid things to do.
posted by Textual Harassment at 1:22 PM
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