Since I'm blogging from the horse sale in Houston tonight, I thought I would share a traveling story. A few weeks ago, my husband and I were at a team roping in Tunica. After he was done for the day, we went to Sam's Town Casino to eat. Really, to eat. Money is way too hard to come by for me to drop it in a slot machine. Plus, I am a barrel racer. I figure that I gamble when I pay my entry fees every weekend. Anyway, we found ourselves going out to dinner alone (a real oddity in our world) at Smoky Joe's Cafe.
As we were seated, I noticed a guy sitting alone at a table on a raised platform. Just like that, we found ourselves in the slightly trashier remake of the old John Candy movie "The Great Outdoors." A fellow about my husband's age was attempting the restaurant's eating challenge: a 64 ounce steak called "The Beast." The rules stated that a 64 ounce steak, a one pound baked potato, and a salad had to be eaten in 46 minutes. For accomplishing this amazing feat, he would get a free meal, a t-shirt, his picture on the wall of fame, and a 64 ounce Miller Genuine Draft. If he didn't finish, he would get a t-shirt and owe them $72.00 for his dinner. What a deal!
Naturally, it takes a certain type of individual to even attempt such a thing, but the really funny part of the equation was the guy's wife. She would periodically say things like, "Come on, baby, EAT! We're so broke. If you don't finish that thing, we gotta pay for it!" To which he would respond through a mouthful of steak, "Hey, why don't you shut up? You're not helping. Just sit there and be quiet!" There was a large clock with red numbers counting down right next to his head. His wife would shout out the time periodically, but she would lie, telling him he had less time than he did.
My husband and I were snickering quietly at first, but after awhile we had to get involved. As he was eating, the guy announced to the restaurant that he was a Marine. After a few branch specific cheers and noises, my husband chimed in, "Ruck up, Marine!" At least that's what I think he said. Then the Marine became Chatty Cathy. By this time, his wife had moved closer to the platform. Still being oh so helpful, she screamed out, "Hurry up! Eat, Baby, eat! Just shut up and put it in your mouth!" After he nearly choked on his mouthful of food, my husband yelled, "That's what HE said!" Sir Eats-a-Lot the Marine added, "Yeah, we know where's she's heard that before!" The large African American manager that had been coming by to check his progress and ensure that the rules were being followed laughed until she fell out of her chair. Literally. Dollars to doughnuts she had a big bruise on her butt the next day.
The longer this exercise went on, the more foul-mouthed the Marine became. After he dropped the fourth F-bomb, I caught the eye of the woman who was at the next table with her husband and three small kids. I expected her to be horrified, but then I considered the facts. She was eating in a casino with three little kids at 10 PM. I figure those kids had heard it before.
As the ordeal continued, I did become increasingly frightened every time the guy burped and then made a sound like a colicking horse. I knew that if he puked our meal was over. As time was dwindling down, he crammed the last bite of potato in his mouth and held it there. According to the rules, so long as it was in his mouth when time expired, he didn't have to swallow it.
I am proud to say that the Marine did indeed consume The Beast, and we were there to witness it. When we got our check, he was drinking his free beer and having his picture taken with all the waiters who had supported him. As we were leaving he yelled out, "Hey, hope I didn't ruin your dinner!" Nah, free white trash entertainment on a Saturday night. Who could ask for more?
As we were seated, I noticed a guy sitting alone at a table on a raised platform. Just like that, we found ourselves in the slightly trashier remake of the old John Candy movie "The Great Outdoors." A fellow about my husband's age was attempting the restaurant's eating challenge: a 64 ounce steak called "The Beast." The rules stated that a 64 ounce steak, a one pound baked potato, and a salad had to be eaten in 46 minutes. For accomplishing this amazing feat, he would get a free meal, a t-shirt, his picture on the wall of fame, and a 64 ounce Miller Genuine Draft. If he didn't finish, he would get a t-shirt and owe them $72.00 for his dinner. What a deal!
Naturally, it takes a certain type of individual to even attempt such a thing, but the really funny part of the equation was the guy's wife. She would periodically say things like, "Come on, baby, EAT! We're so broke. If you don't finish that thing, we gotta pay for it!" To which he would respond through a mouthful of steak, "Hey, why don't you shut up? You're not helping. Just sit there and be quiet!" There was a large clock with red numbers counting down right next to his head. His wife would shout out the time periodically, but she would lie, telling him he had less time than he did.
My husband and I were snickering quietly at first, but after awhile we had to get involved. As he was eating, the guy announced to the restaurant that he was a Marine. After a few branch specific cheers and noises, my husband chimed in, "Ruck up, Marine!" At least that's what I think he said. Then the Marine became Chatty Cathy. By this time, his wife had moved closer to the platform. Still being oh so helpful, she screamed out, "Hurry up! Eat, Baby, eat! Just shut up and put it in your mouth!" After he nearly choked on his mouthful of food, my husband yelled, "That's what HE said!" Sir Eats-a-Lot the Marine added, "Yeah, we know where's she's heard that before!" The large African American manager that had been coming by to check his progress and ensure that the rules were being followed laughed until she fell out of her chair. Literally. Dollars to doughnuts she had a big bruise on her butt the next day.
The longer this exercise went on, the more foul-mouthed the Marine became. After he dropped the fourth F-bomb, I caught the eye of the woman who was at the next table with her husband and three small kids. I expected her to be horrified, but then I considered the facts. She was eating in a casino with three little kids at 10 PM. I figure those kids had heard it before.
As the ordeal continued, I did become increasingly frightened every time the guy burped and then made a sound like a colicking horse. I knew that if he puked our meal was over. As time was dwindling down, he crammed the last bite of potato in his mouth and held it there. According to the rules, so long as it was in his mouth when time expired, he didn't have to swallow it.
I am proud to say that the Marine did indeed consume The Beast, and we were there to witness it. When we got our check, he was drinking his free beer and having his picture taken with all the waiters who had supported him. As we were leaving he yelled out, "Hey, hope I didn't ruin your dinner!" Nah, free white trash entertainment on a Saturday night. Who could ask for more?
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