Seconds Anyone? « Ghandi’s Steakhouse
A few weeks ago I went to Las Vegas with the family. This was the second time we had been to Sin City and the second time we had stayed at Circus Circus which was full of people not so much sinning as eating. Have you seen the size of the buffets in Vegas and the size of some of the people who frequent them? I’ve coined a new term – the “Jumbo People” which if you think about it would make a pretty nifty movie title. “Revenge of the Jumbo People” featuring Nicole Richie getting eaten in one gulp in the first frame while people the size of Mount Kilimanjaro thunder their way up The Strip to get to “The Pharaoh’s Feast” at the Luxor.

It’s obvious that Americans can eat for – well – America. Portion control means not having chocolate sauce with your whipped cream, strawberry puree and syrup on your pancakes. This is after you have piled your plate with bacon, eggs, sausages, roast beef, shrimp, pork chops, lasagna, tacos, potato patties, mashed potatoes, biscuits, gravy and grits [which is evidently left-over wallpaper paste], and washed the lot down with a gallon of Coke. And this is breakfast. The desert table at the buffet is usually so vast that the cinnamon swirls and lemon meringue pies disappear off to infinity in a blue haze in the distance, while the salad bar contains four lettuce leaves, a tomato, and a plate of beans.

When we went to Orlando last year the Jumbo People were there too, wobbling their way towards Space Mountain clutching a whole turkey leg in a greasy paw, creating impact waves in the pond and crushing lesser mortals underfoot. Smaller people, primarily from Asian countries, were flattened like Frisbees and various little children, including a few disgruntled employees uncomfortably dressed as Minnie and Tigger, were side-swiped into the Reflecting Lake at Epcot. And what we thought was Typhoon Lagoon was actually the swimming pool at the Best Western with Jumbo People doing Cannonballs at the shallow end.

On another trip, this time to Nashville, we had dinner one night at Ruby Tuesdays who served us each a plate of food so big that it took two waiters and the cook to carry it across the room to a specially reinforced table with bars underneath to prevent it from collapsing. It was the restaurant’s proud boast that no-one yet had finished off one of their “Mammoth Burgers”; an apt name for a sandwich that consisted of an entire cow between two slices of bread with a pickle.

All this eating is getting out of control. What worries me is not so much that the Jumbo People want to end up dead and buried at a very early age under a mound of dirt the size of Texas but that they might very well be traveling home on the same plane as me. I swear that that last plane I flew on took off sideways into the wind to get more lift and the pilot had to circle Detroit twice while they reinforced the runway for landing.

Thisbe –  

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