Friday night it was time again to continue my coronary cruise through the concession stands of Southeast Ohio. Assignment number three would be a trip to Glouster Stadium for Trimble’s homecoming game against Eastern. The playing field was blanketed with an eerie evening fog, and my arteries would soon be blanketed with an eerie chain of fatty acids.
I sauntered up to the band concession stand which was a diminutive trailer sitting to the left of the visitor side of the stands. I promptly peaked in the concession stand and was met with a sight that turned my heart upside down. It was my opponent, a daunting row of six deep fryers that were merely taunting me with their unyielding heat and bubbling oil. My Friday night expeditions have gone from an innocent, mindless consumption to a rigorous, gruesome battle. It is my indelible intestines, consistent colon, and adamant arteries squaring off against spiteful saturated fats, cruel calories, and ferocious fibers. So, I found myself face to face with my newest foe. It was the pregame handshake. It was the coin toss. It was game time.
I teamed up with Gary and Laverne Humphrey as well as Angie Strock. The Humphrey’s, a happily married pair, and Strock take their concession role seriously, and well they should. After school funding was cut from their children’s band program, the now extracurricular band is funded by their concession stand and their concession stand only. The Humphrey’s daughter directs the band, so they know just how crucial the sales of the stand is. In a candid conversation about how passionate the people of the concession stand were about carrying the financial burden of the band (which includes funding trips to away games), Gary Humphrey told me exactly why they need to keep the band afloat, “Music is something you can do you’re entire life.”
While the words of Humphrey were compelling and true, I quickly realized that touring high school football stadiums and devouring their fan’s favorite foods isn’t something you can do you’re entire life. The talk was over. It was time to eat:
Chili Cheese Fries- This was a hefty half-pound plate of French fries doused with nacho cheese and warm chili. I had heartburn just looking at it. Gary had advised me to take this one on with my hands and finish it with a fork. I proceeded accordingly. Shockingly, this dish had little to no immediate detriments when it came to my digestive tract. I began to fantasize possibilities that I had finally defied the odds of indigestion. Perhaps, I had developed iron intestines, a steel stomach, and a copper colon. For that blissful moment of wishful thinking, I was invincible, a statue of a man. It was after I finally attempted to breathe at the end of the dish that I realized the reason my system felt so unconquerable. All I had just eaten, had not reached my GI tract yet. It was simply lodged in my already ailing chest. It wouldn’t be until my next dish began occupying this region that it would push through my system and render my seemingly untouchable system helplessly fragile.
CHILI CHEESE FRY EATING TIP- Try to consume this one inside or in close proximity to a shower. There is no neat way to eat these. I looked like a four year old eating a rack of ribs. It was embarrassing.
Jalapeno Poppers- There was the magic word again, jalapenos. Obviously, I was overwhelmed with a rush of nervousness. I was sweating like John Rocker in Times Square. I just plowed through these ones. They tasted phenomenal.
FUN FACT: There is cheese in jalapeno poppers. This was a pleasant surprise for my throat, but an unpleasant surprise for my dignity. It took away from the spiciness, but it added yet another splash of cheese to dump into my system.
Mozzarella Sticks- As if I hadn’t already had enough cheese, I was presented with these. And they were fantastic. In fact, next time you go to a football game get these. It’s an incredible combination. If your concession stand doesn’t have them, it may even be a marketable idea to order them as take out at your local steakhouse and bring them to the game with you. Okay, maybe that’s a little extreme, but the point is they’re good, real good.
The grub guzzling was over, and I, once again, had several clinical symptoms. The most notable of these was my body temperature. I was inordinately cold. I was colder than Walt Disney. I was colder than Napoleon in Russia. As I waddled out of the stadium, I was a documentary film crew away from March of the Penguins. There was no explaining it. I began eating at a comfortable body temperature, and I ended my meal chilled to the bone.
Friday night I realized just how crazy my voyages have been. They get more enjoyable and subsequently more dangerous each time. My immense indulgences are as dangerous as hunting with Dick Cheney but as enjoyable as New Year’s with Dick Clark. After a weekend of repeatedly reading Dan Marino Nutri-System testimonials, I realized that each time I travel to a concession stand on Friday night I walk away humbled. I walk away not humbled by my ever expanding mid-section but by the people I meet. The dedication of Angie Strock, the Humphrey’s, and all the other workers of the stand to keep their beloved band alive had once again shown me the spirit of Friday night.
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