HEAVY CONFESSIONS - The Perfect Storm One of the funniest Guys of Girth stories is one my little brother experienced, and Ive asked him to share it with us this week. Ben McKim is a former All-American shot putter (yes, he was better than me, if you must ask) and Im secretly glad he never took up the Highland Games (not really). Hes also a super talented author! He has written a few books and has already published an amazing adventure/fantasy book - Hope of Candore: The New War. Seriously, give it a look for Christmas! Link is below! Ben is a large man and today he shares his encounter with a very glorious place for big guys - Ryans Buffet. Ah, the buffet spread at Ryan’s. For you Guys of Girth out there—need I say more? It’s where we go to sacrifice quality for quantity. And for a certain young fifteen year old, it is the place of one of my fondest Heavy memories. My parents and I were riding back from a long trip with one of our family friends, and elderly man of 94. Dale was his name, and Ryan’s was his game. He loved it there, stopping so often that he had his favorite young waitresses who called him by name. On this particular day, he decided to take us to his buffet asylum. But before I tell much more of this story, keep in mind that this restaurant was thirty minutes away from our home. So here I am, fifteen years old, following my parents and Dale into Ryan’s. The pretty young waitresses light up when they see their favorite old man, and guide us to a table close to the buffet line so that he wouldn’t have to walk far. But while these young women are doting over Dale, he is taking every chance he has to brag on the young man he brought with him today. “This young man has a hollow leg!” he admonished. “You better bring out some more food for this young man!” he declared. “This young man will eat the fill of three people!” This, my friends, is what I call the “Perfect Storm.” A colossal spread before me, a proud old man bragging on my abilities, and pretty young waitresses watching. My mission, if I chose to accept it, was to weather this perfect storm, appeasing my appetite, and my pride. So I dug in. And after the fourth hulking plate, I was starting to hurt. I considered giving in and hitting up the desert bar. But that’s when it happened. Our waitress came around, and Dale made another statement. “This young man is just getting started!” he said, looking at me. I understood, I could read between the lines. As a Guy of Girth, it was time to cinch up the belt, or rather in this case, loosen the belt three holes, and waddle back up to the buffet bar. After a while, I could see the gleam in Dale’s eye. He was satisfied with my performance, so I readily called it quits. The waitress brought us our ticket, obviously impressed, and we made for the exit. And then it hit me. As I shuffled toward the beautiful glass front doors, something deep within me turned. My stomach revolted against the shellacking I had given it. As I stepped from the nice carpeted floors to the hard concrete barely outside the doors, I projectile vomited, dousing the entire entrance with the remains of my dinner. Ashamed, I looked back toward the Ryan’s staff. They didn’t look surprised in the least bit, making me wonder how many times it has happened before. But there was someone else who was much more flustered. Dale. As I looked to my left, a thin string of after-puke dangling from my lower lip, I saw the mortified 94 year old man take off. And in all honesty, I had never seen him move as quickly as he shuffled that day. I don’t know if he had thought it out, but it looked like he had every intention to walk the thirty miles home to escape the embarrassment. In one fell swoop I had decimated his sacred asylum. My dad ran him down, and the Ryan’s crew cleaned everything up. It wasn’t until we were almost home when I heard a muddled chuckle from the old man. It grew until it was open laughter. Finally, he said: “That was pretty funny, wasn’t it?” Ah yes, Ryan’s, a prideful fifteen year old boy, an old man, and pretty young waitresses . . . it truly was the perfect storm for a Heavy Confession that I’ll never forget. amazon/Hope-Candore-The-New-War-ebook/dp/B00LUB9WOS
Posted on: Fri, 12 Dec 2014 11:30:01 +0000
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