Travel Reference
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flapping, as if they hadn't eaten for a week. Our waitress made us introduce ourselves to
eachother,whicheverybodythoughtwaskindofdopey,andthenshestartedbringingfood,
great platters and bowls of it-thick slabs of ham, mountains of fried chicken, buckets of
mashed potatoes and all kinds of vegetables, rolls, soups and salads. It was incredible. You
helped yourself and with two hands heaved the platter on to the next person. You could
have as much of anything as you wanted-indeed, when a bowl was empty the waitress
brought back another and practically ordered you to clear it.
I've never seen so much food. I couldn't see over the top of my plate. It was all delicious
andprettysooneverybodykneweverybodyelseandwashavingagreattime.Iatesomuch
my armpits bulged. But still the food kept coming. Just when I thought I would have to
summonawheelchairtogetmetothecar,thewaitresstookawayalltheplattersandbowls,
and started bringing desserts-apple pies, chocolate cakes, bowls of homemade ice cream,
pastries, flans and God knows what else.
I kept eating. It was too delicious to pass up. Buttons popped off my shirt; my trousers
burst open. I barely had the strength to lift my spoon, but I kept shoveling the stuff in. It
was grotesque. Food began to leak from my ears. And still I ate. I ate more food that night
than some African villagers eat in a lifetime. Eventually, mercifully, the waitress prised the
spoons out of our hands and took the dessert stuff away, and we were able to stumble zom-
bielike out into the night.
We got in the car, too full to speak, and headed towards the greenish glow of Three Mile
Island. I felt as if I had eaten the contents of a cement mixer. I lay on the back seat of the
car, my feet in the air, and moaned softly. I vowed that I would never eat again, and meant
it. But two hours later, when we arrived back at my brother's house, the agony had abated
and my brother and I were able to begin a new cycle of gross overconsumption, beginning
with a twelve-pack of beer and bucket of pretzels from his kitchen and concluding, in the
early hours of the morning, with a plate of onion rings and two-foot-long submarine sand-
wiches, full of goo and spices, at an all-night eatery out on Highway 11.
