I’m finding that for the first time in quite some time, I have an evening with absolutely nothing planned. Nowhere to be, nothing scheduled to watch, nothing planned to do, no chores, self-appointed obligations, no nothing. So with that in mind, I guess I’ll take a little time to catch up on some writing, since National Novel Writing Month is now in the rear view, and I haven’t felt like writing about baseball in a long while lately.
The monstrosity pictured above is an item from Battle & Brew, the nerd bar where I frequent most every Wednesday to play geek trivia. Over a year ago, they came up with this food challenge known as The Final Level sandwich, which I promptly owned like a slave, and have successfully abused it thrice more since then. Needless to say, it was of little challenge to me, and I was satisfied at knowing that it was my culinary bitch as far as all concerning parties, were concerned.
A few months ago, Battle & Brew decided to up the stakes, and a beefed up challenge was put on the table – the Ultimate Final Level sandwich.
I waited until I had run in the zombie run, and after Halloween to take on this new competitor, since I didn’t want to have a lead weight in my stomach and/or be a bulbous, swollen fatass going into either event. But after Halloween was over, there was nothing from stopping me from putting this new challenger to the test.
So here’s the breakdown:
- Bun #1 = Ultimate Grilled Cheese sandwich = Bread x 2, mozzarella sticks x 3, bacon strips x 3, tons of cheese
- 1/3 lb. hamburger patty
- cheddar
- lettuce
- tomato
- moar bacon x 3
- pepperoni x 8
- onion rings x 3
- ketchup/mustard
- mozzarella
- 1/3 lb. hamburger patty
- Bun #2 = Another Ultimate Grilled Cheese sandwich
- And 15 tater tots
The total weight of it was probably somewhere around 2.5 – 3 lbs. The goal of the Ultimate Final Level is 25 minutes, which I figured was perfectly doable since I had done the Final Level as quick as 9:53.
To cut to the chase, the Ultimate Final Level is no ordinary Final Level. Unlike a Square RPG where the second-to-final boss is typically the hardest in the game, the Final Level isn’t even close to the difficulty of the Ultimate. For the first ten minutes, I ate and ate and ate and ate, but the size of the massive monstrous piece of food in my hand simply was not diminishing fast enough. Regardless, I did my best to put the seeping doubt and fullness out of my head and kept eating, because frankly, I’d been talking such a big game that it would be a true failure if I were to be unable to finish the Ultimate Final Level.
At around fifteen minutes, I would have called it a very satisfying meal, and I could’ve finished right there, and been able to comfortably have a good rest of the night. By the time the twentieth minute struck, I was pretty much hating life, and wondered what I had gotten myself into. Legitimate doubt in my eating prowess began swirling in my head, and in spite of the ownage I reigned upon the regular Final Levels, I dreaded the thought of having to put the Ultimate Final Level on the increasing list of food challenges that I think I can do but never manage to complete.
While the time kept ticking down, I kept nibbling away, trying to make my food smaller and smaller, while drinking more Diet Coke (yeah, really) to expedite the smushing of this garbage so I could simply swallow it. I actually dry heaved three or four times, fearful that I could actually blow the chunks. I haven’t puked from just eating since I was in grade school (drinking on the other hand); would I actually be reduced to the vomitorium by the Ultimate Final Level??
Down to the final minute, I had gotten the remainder of the sandwich to the point where I could make one last push, and shove the whole thing in my mouth. But the problem was that I simply didn’t want to. My body was at the point of rejecting it, and I had to muster up the mental fortitude to simply force it into my mouth and begin the chewing process, while using Diet Coke to help the process.
In the end, I beat it. I beat the Ultimate Final Level.
It literally took every single second of 25 minutes to down the behemoth, and frankly, I’d never want to ever do it again.
Beyond the end though, it’s really up for debate on whether or not I was actually really a winner. I mean, I have another Battle & Brew t-shirt, and a little bit of house cash, sure. But I wasn’t able to enjoy trivia night in the least bit. I couldn’t sit, otherwise I felt like the pressure from simply folding my body to enter a sitting position would be detrimental to my clogged up esophagus. I couldn’t really stand, because I was so full of disgusting, that it was difficult to balance. Repeatedly, I went outside just to get some air, to soothe the feeling of meat and grease sweat feeling. My body demanded water to counteract the massive sodium intake, but that only made me feel more bloated.
I ended up leaving trivia early because I didn’t feel so good. And once I came home, I had little choice but to alleviate my stomach, and I ended up puking three times.
How’s that for an epic victory?
