To continue on yesterday’s food/eating thoughts…
The summer before (or maybe after…who remembers) my sophomore year in high school I flew to Atlanta to visit a friend of my from middle school named Suman. While we were there we took the bus/subway for about an hour to get to this all-you-can-eat pizza buffet. On the way, we got bored on the bus so I started some trash talk with Suman and his brother to liven things up. I challenged them to an eating contest. If I remember correctly, I told them that if they ate more than me I’d give them $5 and if they ate more than 15 pieces and ate more than me I’d give them $10. (Don’t gamble kids.)
Back in high school I could really pack it away so when we got there we jumped right in. My friend Suman stopped at like 12 pieces…just sad really. His older brother and I went at it though. When we got to 20 pieces he stopped and said he’d wait for me to see how many I got to so he knew how many he’d have to eat. So I kept going. And going. Slowly. Going. By the time I hit 23 pieces of pizza his brother had mercy and told me that he was just kidding. He wasn’t planning to eat any more. At which point I went directly to the bathroom.
I’ve never been drunk. I’ve generally stayed away from alcohol (plus I think it tastes pretty gross…as does coffee by the way). That night though, I’ve got to think that I had a similar feeling to being drunk. My stomach was so full that I was having trouble breathing. I still remember sitting on that pizza parlor toilet praying God and promising that I’d never do that again. That was a rough night.
I can’t even imagine how this guy might have felt. Fourty-five slices in ten minutes. Holy crap! (pun intended).
Plus, here’s some more fun facts about competitive eating.
