As you may know, I am back in NYC at last. And what you may also know, if you keep up with my Twitter, is that whilst I was in South Florida I attempted a gastronomic feat that only four men had ever succeeded in. I tried to take down “The Beast”. The Beast is a giant cheeseburger that is served at a sports bar near Ft. Lauderdale called Bokampers. I went there with some of my fellow Miami Dolphins fans to watch the Sunday night football game and celebrate the Dolphins victory earlier in the day. As soon as I saw the Beast on the menu I know I had to take it down. The Beast consists of 3lbs of hamburger, 4 eggs, 8 strips of bacon, 4 slices of American cheese and an entire loaf of bread for the bun. It cost’s $30 but if you eat it all in under an hour you get it for free. You also get your picture on the wall. Out of around 80 attempts, only four people made the wall.
I ate the eggs first and then ate the meat by itself with a fork and knife. I had my doubts when I saw how big it was, but I was crusin. After 25 minutes all the meat and eggs were gone. The giant loaf of bread was all that stood between me and immortality. I was pretty full by this time and didn’t think I had much of a chance, but I was balling up the bread and dipping it in water and it was going down pretty well. I got up to take a piss and when I came back I knew I had this thing beat. 10 minutes later I wasn’t so sure. I still had nearly 20 minutes left, but I just couldn’t eat it fast enough. Food would just not go down. The area just below my chest had puffed out in a quite inhuman manor. Everything tasted different. The texture of the soggy bread was suddenly unbearable. I was in trouble. When there was only 5 minutes left everyone was gathered around me chanting. The manager came over. I knew if I got close enough I could just shove the rest of the bread in my mouth. I only had a little bit left. I tried to just swallow what I had in my mouth. I took another bite. With 2 minutes left and what amounted a slice of bread left I got dizzy. I collapsed on the table and pushed the plate away knocking over my water glasses in the process. I spit the bit I had into a napkin and fell to the floor trying not to puke. At this I failed. As they say in the competitive eating world, I had a reversal of fortune.
We were on a deck outside so I pulled myself up, got to the edge of the deck and puked over it. Because I had been eating nothing but bread and water for the last thirty minutes, my vomit was nothing but a thick tube of soggy bread. It was like puking several rolls of raw cookie dough. It almost felt like I took a shit out of my mouth and it was nearly as gratifying. I immediately sat down and finished my bread. Everyone around me was horrified. Most of them had scattered. My friend Michelle was hiding in the next room. I had been defeated.
The next 30 hours I felt as horrible I could possibly feel. I thought I was going to pop. I could barely sleep and the plane ride home was horrible. I still don’t feel great and I have been popping Tums like they were candy. Still, next year when I go back to Florida, I am going to try again. As my friend told me right afterwards, The Beast is my Apolo Creed, and Rocky will have his day. See you, next year, beast.