Caution: This Story Will Make You Hungry

, , , , , , , | | Related | June 27, 2019

(At this time, I am 15 years old and my family is preparing to spend the weekend in the Santa Clara area — coming from El Dorado — for a father and daughter’s joint Bar Mitzvah. As usual, I wake up early and am showered and dressed before anyone else. My mom comes out of her room while I’m getting a box of cereal out to have breakfast. It’s before 8:00 am.)

Mom: “Don’t eat; we’re going to stop for breakfast before we head out of town.”

(I like the idea of getting a Belgium waffle more than eating cold cereal.)

Me: “Okay, sure!”

(However, it takes my family a long time to get ready. My mother and younger sister particularly enjoy lingering in the showers for quite a while. I end up going to my room and switching on my PS2 for a while. Finally, we leave after 10:15. I notice that when we drive into town we immediately get on to the highway.)

Me: “Wait. Weren’t we going to stop for breakfast?”

Mom: “Oh, no way! We left WAY too late for that. Besides, [Sister] and your father already ate something.”

Me: “Well, you could have said something so I didn’t have to go hungry.”

Mom: “Sorry!” *obviously doesn’t care that much* “We’ll stop for something around lunch time.”

(It’s out of my control, so I try to distract myself from the hunger pangs for the next couple of hours until it is past noon.)

Me: “Hey, are we going to stop for lunch anytime soon?”

Sister: “I’m not hungry.”

Mom: “Neither am I. If we stopped for lunch, it would just be for you.”

Me: “I’m fine with that.”

Dad: “We can just go through a drive-thru for him.”

Mom: “I want to make sure we get checked in to the hotel so we don’t have to rush to the ceremony, so let’s just head straight to the hotel.”

(No amount of complaining or compromising makes a difference. It doesn’t matter that we will be at the hotel in an hour and the ceremony won’t happen for another three hours after that; my mom is dead set against stopping for lunch. We arrive at the hotel and get checked in with plenty of time before the ceremony — far more time than what would have been necessary to get a meal. It’s around 1:30 by this time and I still haven’t eaten.)

Me: “How about I order mini pizza from room service?”

Mom: “No way! The ceremony is in a few hours and they are serving dinner; you can wait until then.”

Me: “That’s still hours away and I’m starving! I haven’t eaten all day!”

Dad: “Honey, we can let him order something small from room service.”

Mom: *as if we are making an absurdly ridiculous request* “No! We are not ordering him room service. They are serving prime rib for dinner and he’s not going to eat it if he has food now.”

(No food for me. The ceremony starts at 4:00 pm, but it’s at a synagogue. Dinner isn’t until later at the reception. I sit through the ceremony while listening to my stomach trying to digest itself. We are dismissed back to the hotel before the reception and we get to the hall by 7:00 pm and dinner is served. For some reason, my family isn’t seated together. My parents are with their friends, my sister is with the daughter being Bat Mitzvah-ed and her friends, and I’m with some adults I’ve never met before. Of course, I’m at one of the last tables served dinner. I see the other tables digging into their prime rib and green beans. FINALLY, my table gets our turn and the waitress plops down in front of me… the fattiest slice of beef I’ve ever seen. There are hardly any traces of meat visible.)

Me: “Excuse me. This is basically a lump of fat. Could I get another piece?”

Waitress: “Sorry, this is all that we have. We made the exact number of plates that there are guests.” *rushes away before I can say anything else.*

(So, I eat my green beans and pick out what little flecks of meat I can find while the other people at the table jokingly keep asking me if I’m enjoying my “prime fat.” Later, dessert is served, and of course, they run out of chocolate cake before they get to me, so I don’t get any dessert, either. Later, after the reception…)

Mom: “I bet you feel better now that you finally got some food.”

Me: “Not really. The meat I got was almost all fat, so I didn’t eat anything besides green beans.”

Mom: “Seriously?! You should have told us or [Friends]; they would have gotten you a better piece.”

Me: “They said they were all out, anyway. Can I please order room service now?”

Mom: “Sorry, the kitchen is closed by now. You’ll have to wait for breakfast.”

(Nothing else to do but go to bed hungry. We wake up on Sunday morning and I get showered and dressed before everyone else because I’m in a hurry to finally get my first proper meal since Friday night.)

Me: “I’m starving. Can I go downstairs and get breakfast while you guys get ready?”

Mom: “No, you can’t. You will wait for us so we can eat as a family.”

(And wait I do, yet again for more than two hours while they take their time to have some coffee, take long showers, get dressed, and apply makeup. Then, I have to wait until my mom and aunt make sure my grandparents — staying in another room in the hotel — are up and ready to go. Eventually, we make our way downstairs together. Most of my family elects to go to the breakfast buffet to get breakfast quickly. I decide to order a Belgium waffle. It takes a LONG time to get here. My grandparents have already received and finished their eggs and toast and the rest of them have had a couple of rounds at the buffet.)

Mom: “I told you that you should have gone to the buffet.”

Me: “I would have if I’d known they were going to take so long.”

(My waffle does eventually come out. I pour on some syrup and cut into it only for waffle batter to pour out like a lava flow.)

Me: *incredibly frustrated and hangry* “My waffle is completely raw!”

(My parents are in hysterics, laughing at how hard a time I’ve been having finding food this weekend. I send back the waffle and tell them I just want to eat at the buffet. I take my plate and get my first helping of random breakfast foods available and start scarfing down. I get back up to get my next course, happy to finally be able to eat a full meal.)

Mom: “That’s enough. Everyone else is done eating and they don’t want to wait for you.”

Me: *my frustration starts rising again* “No way. I’ll be done when I’m done!”

Dad: “Honey, just let him eat.”

Mom: *chuckles as she again remembers what a miserable time I’ve been having* “All right, all right.”

(I went back to the buffet and had a total of four plates.)

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