It also transcends and a “Sorry We’re Closed” sign. Yeah right. You know you still have burgers in the back.
Being on vacation at an all inclusive resort is my definition of heaven.
Since I’m super important and demand luxury, or really just a room with free cable, we are staying at a fairly nice resort.
Don’t get me wrong. Our standards are low, so when we say a “nice resort”, we mean it’s a place that requires you to wear pants to dinner.
NOTE: This rule is non-negotiable, as I learned earlier this week.
Since Matt and I don’t like to spend money on things that aren’t liquor or pet-related, we made a conscious decision to make sure we get our money’s worth out of this vacation.
Naturally, we’re drinking like fish, although I don’t think fish drink, except for Phish heads. Those guys know how to party.
So I guess it can be said we are drinking like Charlie Sheen this week. Only we don’t have hookers or drugs…or an annoying sitcom.
I don’t want to tell you just how much we are eating because it’s completely embarrassing, but by my estimate, we are gaining a pound or two a day. Okay, maybe that’s just me.
Part of the reason we are eating so much is because the food is absolutely fantastic, and I have an ongoing love affair with guacamole.
There are restaurants and an extremely large buffet for every meal, but we like the buffet for obvious reasons, so we usually stick with that.
We arrive at the buffet for every meal, focused, and ready to gorge ourselves. It’s like a battle of sorts, and we treat it like one.
The objective is to get as much food as possible while expending as little energy as possible.
We begin each meal by ensuring we are wearing comfortable clothes that are expandable and don’t dig into our stomachs.
We descend upon the buffet together, in order to appear as a unified front. We do a walk around first to scope things out and learn our options. Recognizance is key, and we don’t take it lightly.
If only we took this same approach to purchasing a TV for our bedroom we would have a TV that stayed on when we walked across the room.
Unfortunately, a waiter seats us so we don’t get to pick out our exact seating location.
However, even though many of these servers speak minimal English, one look at the two of us clearly tells everyone we are there to party. And by “party” I mean eat until we feel sick….and then get dessert.
After being seated, we begin the battle. We head up to the lines together and each takes a plate or two. I like to tell people I’m making a plate for my child, who is back at the table. I get fewer stares that way.
We then elbow our way through the lines to get the best dinner we can.
The glitter stains on my dining room curtains can attest to that.
I will give up my spot on the train for a child, or I will let a mother with a screaming kid go in front of me in the grocery line. (Partially to get that kid out of the store).
But I won’t make any special accommodations for kids when it comes to a buffet line. From eight to eighty, I don’t care what age you are.
Nothing stands between me and a second helping of mashed potatoes with a side of grits and pasta salad. Nothing. Not an artificial hip and certainly not a speech impediment.
Ma ma ma move out of the way.
Matt and I take our eating quite seriously on this trip, even though we know the chances of fitting into our work clothes when we return are slim to none.
In fact, the only thing that’s slim between the two of us right now is the distance between our stuffed bellies and the table.
We want to feel badly about shoving people aside to get the last quesadilla, but no matter how hard we try, we just don’t. Maybe it’s the knowledge that they will make more, or maybe it’s that we are trying to teach these kids patience and sharing (we really are such givers).
Whatever the reason, we will continue eating our way through this vacation until we have gotten our money’s worth…or we get diabetes.