When the plate was first set in front of me I turned it this way and that planning my angle of attack. Any way I turned it, it was huge, so with cameras blazing I unhinged my jaw and took a five inch bite. Fabulous.
Fast forward through a day spent at the Arnold Arboratum and an evening spent, eating drinking, and singing to the morning after.
I had been awake throughout the night, never quite making it into deep, restful sleep. Just as the first grey rays of morning light happened through the window, the what that was keeping me awake occurred to me; My jaw hurt. A lot. I lay there clutching my jaw and wondering if I had blacked out at some point in the evening and missed my bout with a heavy weight fighter. Ibuprofen, a gallon of ice tea, and 1 individual pizza later and my jaw still ached and my friends had assured me that I hadn't taken to calling Mr. Goldengloves a sissy. Then it occurred to me. In my line of work I am constantly councelling children on the consequences of their actions and how all it take is one minute where you are showing off or trying to fit in to do something STUPId. What I had done, was eat a five inch sandwich. The consequences were these: bruised jaw muscles and lasting proof of my stupidity on ALL of my friend's cameras. The ache in my jaw would be my reminder that showing off comes with a price. Amen.