No longer racing to the bottom of the bowl
I have proof that I’m getting older: there was an ice cream eating contest held, this afternoon, in the immediate area. I did not go. I did not even dream of going. Yes, the flavour was vanilla, which might have been a factor, even if I didn’t know that until after, when the photos appeared on social media. It’s just that I would have had to compete against much younger contestants, and they need all the ice cream they can get.
So many contests that no longer interest me. Why, when I was just a bit young and stupid, I entered a relay contest. Not one of those Olympic style events. No, this involved going from station to station (on campus) and inhaling a chilled brew from a number of those red cups. After clearing the skim of ice from the surface. This was a winter event, and back before global warming, it was frightfully cold outside. Did I mention that I won the event? There was no trophy on offer, but it did quench the sort of thirst that young men are born with.
I can proudly confirm that I have never entered a hotdog contest, nor have I tried to match records from Guinness. Oh, wait. There were those bags of grapes that we purchased from K-Mart (a historical landmark in the city) to later inhale in my room in residence. A dangerous event, in retrospect. But I’m older now, and I eat my grapes without racing to see the bottom of the bowl. As for K-Mart, we need a business like that. You say we have Walmart, now? Well then.
