Assay: It Takes A Kingdom

In my professional fat-ass life I have hit many milestones in the all-you-can eat arena. I have undoubtedly always been defeated by the hungrier fatter people, and I truly wondered if I will ever achieve the level of greatness local rednecks with boiler-belly stomachs did as they pranced away from the buffet table with the pile of food that put the great Sears Tower to shame.

The humble beginnings

The true beginning of my story starts at year 0 BF/AF (before-fat-ass / after-fat-ass) on August 18, 1997 when I moved out to Gainesville/UF with Carlos and Dwayne. I would like to think I had a somewhat normal build (6'1", 190lb) that day, but the events of that evening were set to change my life forever. We got around a large box with our Winn Dixie paper plates and forks and got out our micro waved hot dogs (ah, gourmet meals). No, we did not use hot dog buns, all we had was bread and mustard. At one point Dwayne even said "But I hate mustard!" - first fat ass epiphany of our lives - The road to fatness is paved with hard work, dedication, and acceptance of new things. Five packs of Salzburg Microwave Steak later, we decided we could no longer cook for ourselves. We were to find the cheapest meals we possibly could, and somehow make it on that. We started out with our local Taco Bell and McDonalds - 39 cent Tuesdays and Sundays for tacos, 29 cent hamburger Wednesday's and 39 cent cheeseburger Sunday's. Ah, that was life. Monday's and Wednesday's were also wrestling nights so on those nights we would order $3.99 Five Star Pizza's or Domino's student menu. . We would still occasionally cook - melting Tupperware in the oven with our trusty chink friends yelling "Something on fire" as the kitchen filled up with smoke. Ah, Graham Hall, my Mecca. During this semester I put on 25 pounds, followed with another 15 the next semester. Heavyweight division, here I come!

In the dark ages, my tag-team partner Carlos and I went to numerous Chinese buffets where we brought tears to the eyes of poor restaurant owners. As they depleted their tiny bowls of rice, we were both well on to our fourth plates loaded with assortment of bad Chinese food. Mountains of egg-rolls, tubs of spicy mustard which would make a dragon scream, piles of fried rice and General Tao's chicken and the wide rivers of egg drop soup would flow until the skinny waiter came by to proclaim "you eat too much, you leave no tip - that no good."

Age of enlightenment and cultural diversity

As my education got in a way of eating, my science class teaching assistants of the Pacific Rim enraged my hatred for Chinese food. The constant badgering of the buffet owners standing over our table with their ice filled water-pitchers did not help either. I suppose they hoped to distract us from eating and force us to think or possibly even chew the food before swallowing - their hopes of slowing down our appetites failed miserably. In our growing consciousness and awareness of beautiful America, Carlos and I embraced the great tradition of our home land - enter Kenny Rogers Restaurants. Ah, the look on black people's faces as I carried away crates of chicken and stuffing brings back wonderful memories. For years I have considered Kenny Rodgers my Alma Mater - the first restaurant where I ate so much that I threw up in the parking lot. Ah, dark ages were finally getting some glimpse of greatness.

Alas, this age of enlightenment came to a tragic end in 1999 as our local Kenny Rodgers in Gainesville went out of business (wonder why). But we were not about to give up - we set out on a crusade which lead us miles and miles away from home. Our arrival in Ocala to an abandoned Kenny Rodgers crushed our conquests and left us with 3rd grade Fazoli's Italian food.. Kenny, rest in peace. Shortly after this earth-changing event, Carlos left the University of Florida to pursue his hispanic heritage in Miami.

Singles Competition and Gloomy Depression

After Carlos left Gainesville I really didn't have a tag team partner to go into competitions with. The skinny audience might not comprehend the true need for a tag team partner at an all you can eat buffet, but it is a task nearly unattainable in singles competition. Fat people have a different mindset, a different game plan so to speak. As you leave your seat and approach the buffet you need to do it with extreme calmness and caution as to divert people from your target - you don't want to seem overly anxious as you close in on the Orange Chicken dish as this will alert others to line up behind you and block your sight of the other food that was just delivered. Likewise, you have to go about food collection in a slow manner as you do not want to exert calories while piling stuff on your plate - it is simply counterproductive to do so. As you put distance between yourself and the buffet you have to hold your plate with both hands (or if you bring a forklift) and survey the terrain for the new food that is being stored. Perhaps you can tell that this takes a considerable amount of time, and tag team partner is quintessential - you can't run (shit, couldn't run even if you wanted to) but the opponents might get in your way - this is usually in a form of a waiter trying to steal your forks, play Russian Roulette with drink refills (where you end up with your buddy's drink), etc. The tag team partner keeps the table under extreme surveillance, making sure that only your drink is refilled while you are away, that all the utensils are left on the table, and that old dishes and accessories are properly aligned - essentially, you need a clean eating area so you don't end up downing a bottle of Tabasco sauce and pouring Mountain Dew on your steak. Furthermore, heavy lifting while eating is a no-no as it also takes away calories. Likewise, so does chewing, lifting forks, and other exercise-like motion. Occasional grunting is alright to alert new food arrivals and/or indicate favorable buffet traffic conditions (so you don't waste time in a line).

Time is of course of ultimate importance as well. As you may be aware, human stomach has a limited capacity, and getting $5 worth out of a buffet is often a difficult task. You need to go on a recognizance mission prior to engaging the enemy and survey the status of chairs, bathrooms, and optimal routes to the table. You don't want a table 5 fat ass miles (about 10' feet) away from the buffet - you need front and center positions. You need to be aware of bathroom conditions as well - in case General Tao needs emergency exit you need to be able to do so with extreme coordination and speed - If you've ever seen a buffet bathroom you know what I mean - the Five Star Dump is usually most desireable although not easy to achieve. Essentially, you grab a toilet paper roll and tuck in one end under your chin. You take off your shorts (spandex, lose) and hop over the bowl and support your feet on top of the toilet paper dispenser. Hold on to the top of the booth and angle until you have clear sight of the bowl. Fire. This is at times quite difficult due to the fatigue and poor visibility conditions. Be prepared to leave the bathroom without ever hitting the floor.

Now that you can comprehend the importance of tag team partners and strategic planning, you too can go over the 200lb mark.

Five Star MVP

Eventually, the mountain of Five Star Chicken Wings helped me cope with embracing the single career. I would go through a gallon of blue cheese dressing and chicken population of a third world country every week. My road to glory resumed, as most of the Five Star drivers knew my name and ordinarily delivered extra blue cheese even without my request. I was well on my way to a mountain of Five Star chicken wing boxes that I had planned to build a structure to compete with the Great Wall of China. Unfortunately, in late 2000 Five Star Pizza discontinued their Spicy Wings and I was crushed yet again. Their staff joined me in paying respects to the fallen wings every time they came over. I became a local celebrity in this respect, as Five Star drivers would come with a concerned look asking how come I am no longer ordering wings - "Yeah, Vlad - well done, double pass, extra blue cheese" - my girlfriend starting accepting condolences from Five Star staff "Well, you were the only one that ordered them before. Now nobody orders them." - I eagerly anticipate the return of the wings.

Tennessee Expansion Team

As Gainesville food scene entered depression, I found myself going to Tennessee more often to hang out with my girlfriend. Her roommate, Heather, and her boyfriend, Jonah, showed great promise and at first I did not understand their true power. Much like Wolverine joining the X-Men (movie), I had a lot to learn. I was not a Jedi Warrior yet. They rekindled me with my roots, my original mission, that food taste is only a byproduct. Getting fat and the pride of its accomplishment laid in endurance, dedication, and resolve to put the local buffet out of business.

I started training for the Tag Team competition again, although now it was more like King of The Ring competition as new people were added to the roster - Jenny of NJ, Dana of DE, Katie of TX, and Heather and Jonah of Columbus, OH. Unfortunately, as the team got stronger so did the competition. Tennessee rednecks are much more hardcore than we ever hoped to be. I recall being in Walmart with Jenny and seeing two shoeless rednecks in red/black pladed shirts and overalls (and no socks) carry out 3 shopping carts full of dog food and grape juice jugs. They were obviously far more advanced than we were.

But there was opportunity for us. We practiced nearly around the clock, ravaging buffets during the day and local IHOP's at night. We were a force to be reckoned with. We would generate so much trash at Don Pablo's that we used nearby tables as storage for empty taco shell plates.

The Crowning Achievement

In late spring 2001, our tag team went to the local Sonny's BBQ joint, for a supposed all-you-can-eat chicken afternoon. Oh, the legend was about to be born. Our skinny waitress came over, and started bringing us food. As Jonah and I explained to the skinny women the Art of Fat, their laughter filled up the room. Much to the annoyance of the management, we continued to get louder and desecrate chicken after a chicken. We of course had the table advantage as we did not need to move - chicken was brought to us. They did not want to seem rude to us, so they just left us alone in the corner of the restaurant and didn't sit anybody even near us. We had a great time. For a few hours if I recall correctly.. Then the shift changed, and they stopped bringing us food. As we refused to leave, the waitress came by and started getting an attitude - the most fatal mistake one can make. We now started eating more chicken just in spite of them. I was personally at the end of ends around the third hour, but Jonah kept the team alive - he went through about four more chickens after me. As the managers were filling out bankruptcy papers and the local national guard was called in to clean up our table, we decided it was time to go home. I still don't know how I survived that day, but to this date it is one of my shining moments.

"They are pro's" - Roy "Disney"

Up to this point a variety of tiny buffet joints hosted my training. In April 2001, I went to Disney World Polynesian Resort restaurant with Pablo. He introduced me to this Hawaii-style BBQ place called Ohana's and its essentially a huge bbq that cooks only 4 things on giant skewers - pork, turkey, shrimp, and steak. Their waiters come around with these 4' skewers and basically pile food on your plate until you scream for them to stop (or faint under the table, whichever you prefer). Restaurant is quite authentic, it has a ton of people working there and is generally packed with reservations needed usually a day in advance during the high season. It is not a run-of-the-mill buffet by any chance.

So what are the odds that anybody would remember you at a place like this? With 100 something tables and thousands of people going in and out of it on a daily basis you would imagine that nobody would ever know your name, much less what you like to eat. Well, apparently we are so hardcore that these people know us - not only by our name, but by the food we like. We have taken nearly everyone that comes to visit us there, and our waiters know our families. Furthermore, they know what we like to eat - so Roy doesn't come to our table with Pork - just shrimp and steak for me and turkey and steak for Katie. There is a pineapple sauce that Katie likes that Roy always brings in pairs for her. It has been a considerable amount of shame for her, and an immense source for pride for me. Just as the image of that redneck with a five story plate will never leave my mind, Roy's comments to Katie's mom will become permanently embedded in my mind: "Oh, done already - yeah, you're a rookie. These guys are pro's, they are here every weekend and we have a part of the grill with their name on it." - Just in case this is a stretch for some of you to believe, I have a picture with what happens to now be our personal waiter at Walt Disney World.

Go me. So think about this essay next time you encounter a fat ass and think how sad they must be... Instead, think of all the sacrifices they made to keep on eating, think of how many thousands of pounds of meat didn't go bad because they took care of it. Think of.. well, I can't think anymore, I'm fucking S T A R V I N G.