When I lived in Chile I was very poor. Well, not poor compared to the poor people in Chile, but poor compared to how I'm accustomed to living here in Canada. My friend and I struggled to pay rent every month. Going to a movie or eating out was a big treat.
There were a lot of Westernized restaurants in the city we lived in. One of our favourites was Gatsby. There was a Gatsby in the mall and every Saturday they had this huge buffet and every time we went to the mall on Saturday, we drooled over all the food and pledged that one day we would save up our money and go. It was a big deal. The price of this buffet was more than we would make for a full day's work.
The day finally came. We had saved up enough money to go to the great Gatsby buffet. My friend had already went with some colleagues so she knew what was good and was going to advise me accordingly.
Now, as I had mentioned before, this was a big deal. I was spending a good chunk of money on this so I really wanted to get my money's worth. I loaded my plate up with every kind of food there was and ate until I wanted to pop. Then I ate some more. Then my friend said I had to try this really good dessert, so I did. And then she said I had to try this other great dessert, so I did that as well. It was at that point where things started to feel a bit off. I was trying to force in one more bite of chocolate waffle covered in ice cream and smarties when I knew I had definitely had more than my share of food that day.
"Aren't you going to have anymore?", my friend asked?
"I feel really....sick", I said.
And as the food slowly started to settle, I felt more and more like I was going to explode. I'm not exaggerating. I really thought I was going to explode. I couldn't get up, but I couldn't just sit there either. I undid my pants button like a fat man after a turkey dinner to relieve some of the pressure but I was already too far gone. I had to get home. I had to get home right now. The only problem was, home was a 20 minute walk away. We didn't have a vehicle and I sure didn't want to spend any amount of time on a bus at this point.
So, I slowly got up and started the longest walk home I have ever walked. I couldn't even do up my pants button if I wanted to so I walked most of the way on the bottoms of my pants. Every time I stepped off a curb I either almost puked or shit myself. There were numerous occasions when I seriously debated running in to some random Chilean persons house to try to ask in Spanish if I could use el bano. I'm sure that would have gone over well.
I finally made it home. I actually doubled the 20 minute walk into 40 of the most uncomfortable minutes I have ever experienced. No joke.
Of course, I headed straight to the bathroom where I proceed to have my first and hopefully last experience with projectile vomit. I had to call in sick to work. It was a great night.
From then on, it was a joke between me and my friends that if we ate so much we felt like puking we would say we were going to "Gatsby". It was very funny. How many people can actually say they ate so much they puked? Probably only me!
Why am I telling you this now? Because last night was the first time since that night in Chile that I ate so much I felt like I was going to Gatsby. All you can eat sushi may sound like a good idea but it really isn't.
Take my word for it.