Pregame
Woke up in the morning feeling like P Diddy. Wait… wrong reference. I woke up feeling just like Forrest Gump — maybe a few brain cells missing, and a pure relentless devotion to shrimp.
You see, today was the day I would finally defeat my arch nemesis, Fenix Ham, in our much anticipated shrimp eating competition.
After a long day of cutting class and cutting meals, the time was coming. In Forrest Gump fashion I didn’t know what else to do but run. I ran around campus. I ran amongst the Lakeshore freshmen migrating home for the night. I conquered Bascom Hill, and ultimately returned home.
My mind was clear, my tummy was hungry and all I could think of was one thing. Shrimp. Sweet sweet shrimp. The only salvation to my burning desire for bite sized seafood. I took a shower cuz I’m not gross like Fenix, and I dressed for the occasion.
What does one wear to a funeral of someone they extensively feuded with over seafood? Given the seafood nature of the night, I chose a shirt with marlin on it. I’m sure marlins eat shrimp by the thousands. Considering the feasting I was about to partake in, I chose my loosest pants with the stretchiest waistband. I donned my trusty bucket hat to feel like a fisherman at sea, and I was ready to go.
With the outfit selected and the mindset prepared there was but one thing to do — strategize. This is something I had been preparing months for, so I knew exactly what to do. For every shrimp he eats I would eat two. I knew that would make Lieutenant Dan proud.
Shrimp
‘Twas just about 2000 hours, and my stomach yearned for shrimp. We arrived at Red Lobster and we knew we had just about one hour to consume more shrimp than the other. Of course I thought one hour was child’s play. I had prepared myself for plopping in a booth and eating shrimp for hours on end.
Alas I had to do the best with my allotted time.
The first two plates of shrimp arrived and given the time constraint, we decided to turn the game into a race — finish each dish before the opponent. Our unbiased mediator counted us down and we took off.
I shoved shrimp after shrimp down my gullet. Before I even had the chance to breathe I had a mouth full of hot arthropods. I heard my opponent squealing in pain.
From the peripheral vision of the absolute cannonade of crustacean coming at my mouth I saw him begin to slow down. I told my body to ignore the heat and continued to shovel the shrimp into my mouth. With such little time to chew I basically swallowed them whole.
I took a look down at my plate and it was empty. I swallowed the shellfish and victory was mine. Eight grilled shrimp and six fried shrimp down in probably 2 minutes. I claimed round one. But that was just the beginning.
With 14 shrimp swimming around in my stomach, I was feeling great. I was ready for whatever seafood would come my way. I was reaching my final form.
Not 2 minutes after the first round, our gracious server returns with another plate of piping hot prawn. Six more shrimp settled in my stomach.
Our mediator counted us down and we were off to the races. Following my overwhelming victory in round one I stuck to my strategy of completely disregarding the dangerous levels of heat going in my mouth. If anything I pushed myself to take on even more.
Soon I had stuffed my face with so much shrimp I could barely chew. And then I realized my mistake. Heat with the force of a thousand suns was blasting every square inch of my mouth. Every bite was a new scolding.
Spitting out was not an option, so I just had to play through the pain just going much slower. Ultimately, my foe had spaced his shrimp out better than I, and he claimed victory. I learned my lesson, and my mouth was so damaged I could only eat soft foods for the next week.
From there we decided that the racing was far too dangerous for both of us. We both took one round and decided not to race anymore and give each other the capacity to enjoy the art of eating the shrimp.
Plates three and four came and went with little excess damage and many tasty new dishes. There was grilled shrimp, fried shrimp, red shrimp, blue shrimp, garlic shrimp and even bacon shrimp (my personal favorite.)
More shrimp just kept coming. They aren’t kidding when they advertise never-ending shrimp. Next thing I knew we were at 42 shrimp a piece and neither of us were willing to concede.
We were informed the restaurant was about to close, and our final shrimp order was placed. Each of us set out to demolish the other in a battle of digestion, but alas neither would be demolished. It had come to the final plate.
We had overstayed our welcome. As the server brought our last round of shrimp out, I had a glance around at the restaurant. It was empty save for the staff cleaning up hoping for an early night.
Now one would expect 42 shrimp to do a real number on their stomach, but I was feeling immaculate. I was glowing. I think I started to grow a tail and I had an urge to swim into the mouth of a whale. Again — I was reaching my final form.
Given my shrimpy urges, I almost hesitated to finish my final plate. Was this cannibalism? NO… I had to remind myself of the goals of the night. Out eat my opponent. I had to send these little fellas to their brothers and sisters in my digestive tract. I was determined.
I looked across the table and I could tell he was sweating and full — I think he was even stalling to finish cuz he simply couldn’t fit any more. But I knew I could.
It was for this reason that the last plate was the best plate. I finished before my rival, and felt a false sense of completion. Even if we ate the same amount of shrimp, at least I did it in slightly less time than him.
While we couldn’t truly complete the shrimp off, at least we faced off. But the job is not finished. I will reach my ultimate victory. I am the ultimate shrimp eater and nobody can stand in my way.
With 50 of those little guys swimming in each of our tummies, we exchanged pleasantries in the spirit of good sportsmanship. We thanked our server and made our way out.
Aftermath
Eating 50 or more shrimp seemed like a good idea in the buildup. Even in the heat of competition, I was having a blast. I was in my element.
I know many would expect me to say it wasn’t such a good idea in hindsight. But, I HAVE NO REGRETS. The only thing I would change about that night was the hour we went so that we may have eaten more shrimp before they closed.
I truly believe I could have reached 100 or more. Time simply didn’t allow it. While the next day I wasn’t feeling the best, and I would wince in pain anytime something remotely crunchy or hot touched the roof of my mouth for the next week, I would do it all again in a heartbeat. And I will. The battle was a tie, but I will win the war. I just hope I made Lieutenant Dan proud.
