Just like every other Saturday at the in-laws house back in Vicksburg, the day began with McDonalds. Not knowing that all 3 meals of the day would be fast food, we handily disposed of the customary sausage biscuit and hash browns. A mere 3.5 hours later, we found ourselves waiting for the carhop to deliver the goods- SuperSonic Cheeseburgers, onion rings, cheese sticks, tater tots, and a Route 44 Chocolate DrPepper. Yes, Chocolate DrPepper. Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it. Unknowingly, and perhaps subconsciously, all this fast food was just a way to get our guts nice and loose for the belt-buckle-breaking-supper we were about to experience.
We were trying to beat the crowd to get a good table for Jessica’s surprise engagement party, so we raced over to Jackson like we were Lazy Luke and Blubber Bear in the Arkansas Chuggabug. We finally arrived at Sal and Mookie’s to a full house (unfortunately, the Olsen twins weren’t there). Since we had to wait for a table for 20+, we hung out in the side bar to wait for the newly engaged couple to arrive. They entered a few moments later very surprised, as planned, of course. After a few exchanges of hugs, and laughs, and comparisons of enough shiny new rings to make Duke Nukem and Hoggish Greedly tremble, we were seated at a long table right next to the bustling counter where all the scratch-made pizzas were temporarily stationed before their departure throughout the busy dining room. Even though we had just left seafood-centered New Orleans, and were 3 hours from the Gulf Coast, we couldn’t resist the crab, shrimp, and crawfish pizza laced with a béchamel sauce, and smothered in melted provolone.
Luckily, we had suppressed our appetites enough that we didn’t immediately order the large. We opted for the regular-sized seafood laden pizza, which was very successful at stuffing us, but, as usual, I went for one final piece- a piece that would turn out to be the belt-buckle-breaker. It gets worse. Not only did the pizzeria have a full service bar, they also had an ice cream bar. And I’m not talking about an ice cream buffet like at Ryan’s. They literally replaced the bourbon, gin, and rum usually found on shelves behind the bar with sprinkles, Oreos, and gummy bears.
Overwhelmed by all the flavors and toppings (and I’m sure panicking), Erin went for just a regular ole chocolate milk shake.
For the second time of the night, I couldn’t control myself. Every swig, yes swig, of the extra thick milk shake filled up what little space was left in my now swelling stomach. The dining spectacle was now over, but was superseded by the spectacle of me not even being able to buckle my seatbelt over my stomach, which now felt as if a small child was forming in it. Needless to say, the ride back home didn’t go as smoothly as the ride over. I’m not sure if it was caused by the quick game of Mario Kart on the N64 before we finally left for Vicksburg, but it felt like I spent the entire drive back to Vicksburg dodging prairie doggin’ moles on Moo Moo Farm.
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