Yeah, I went to Vegas and yeah, I lost $30 in the video poker machine but what I found was so much more. It was on the 65th floor of a club called Mix (highlight: toilets with a view of the Vegas strip), that the President of the International Federation of Competitive Eating introduced himself and invited my group to a burger-eating contest.
One cab ride later we arrived at the Plaza Hotel, a casino on the seedier side of Vegas boasting McDonalds instead of Wolfgang Puck in the lobby. The burger showroom was just beyond the slot machines and had a smoke machine pumping volumes into an already established luke-warm haze. When the 15 competitors arrived on stage they raised their arms and flexed like wrestlers. As well they should. Each burger when it rolled out hot from the kitchen was the circumference of a wide brimmed cowboy hat and boasted a tailor made bun.
“Passion is raw but I assure you the burgers are cooked,” announced the President of the International Federation of Competitive Eating. Then the whistle blew and “the four horseman of the esophagus” flexed their “weapons of mass digestion,” and with “hand speed, jaw strength and double capacity,” dipped into their challenge. “It’s a nine pound hamburger folks, it has a horizon all its own.” As did the President's excellent verbiage. Burger Eating Champ of the World.
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