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 Splat Race: Tales Of A Competitive EaterPosted 01.13.2004 by The Big Wiper (2245)
No longer a sideshow at the county fair, "competitive eating" is now an official extreme sport, with its own governing body (IFOCE, The International Federation of Competitive Eating). On the news, we see footage of people eating and footage of someone celebrating, and then it's a cut to Cindi for the weather. But dedicated PoopReporters know that the story doesn't end there. After stuffing themselves with as much food as they can in a particular period of time -- and with upchucking resulting in automatic disqualification -- we're interested in the story the mainstream media just leaves to our imaginations.
PoopReport recently caught up with Carson "Collard Green" Hughes, a 45-year-old
"I was encouraged to enter a collard green eating contest at a local restaurant by my mother-in-law, Grandma Mae Stein," Hughes began. "She had a way of cooking collards that made them go down like chocolate cake, and brought by many a pot of them over the years for me and my wife, Tereasa." The prize was $100. Hughes went to the restaurant at 7:00 with his two seventeen year-old daughters, Jessica and Amanda, as his cheering section. Jessica bet on her father and ended up winning twenty dollars. There were about fifteen other entrants, including a 350-pound guy who had not eaten all day, and had played a round of golf to work up his appetite; and a 32-year-old who grew his own collards in the back yard and, although only weighing 175 pounds, was sure he would win. There were also three women, ranging in age from mid-20's to early-50's and in weight from 120 and 160 pounds. Hughes describes the set-up. "There was an eighteen foot table covered with white butcher shop paper -- room enough for twenty-four people. Every two feet there were a variety of condiments -- hot sauce, salt, pepper and vinegar. I brought my own Texas Pete for the occasion. Then the restaurant staff brought out a twelve-inch white platter heaped four inches high with piping hot collards for each contestant. Mike, the manager, counted down to ten, and we were off and running." Hughes won by using an unconventional strategy that totally outfoxed his competition. "I saw that the others fumbling around, trying to shovel the hot greens into their mouths using the forks they had been provided. I chose not to use my utensils. I also decided that the collards needed to be cooled down because I didn't want to damage my mouth. So I drank all the water in my glass, dumped the ice over the greens, and started picking them up with my bare hands and masticating them as fast as I could, ice and all." For his canny and efficient effort, Hughes brought home the bacon (after all, there were ham hocks in the greens!), pulled back from the table, raised his arms, gave a holler as if he had won a million dollars, and earned himself the nickname Collard Green. "I ate 2.5 lbs. of collards in 17.5 seconds. That's equal to about ten normal, healthy servings of collards." Two point five pounds. Seventeen point five seconds. One stomach. You know what happened next. Or, more likely, you can't possibly imagine. "Around 10:00 that night, the end result occurred," Hughes explained. "All those collards that went in had to come out. What a fast turn-around time! I guess roughage can speed things up a bit. For me, the collards acted like an internal scrub brush -- they cleaned me out from one end to the other. My stomach began rumbling with that all-knowing feeling that I must get to the bathroom quick. Once there, down came the pants and a big plop on the seat, and I was ready. Boy, just in time, because the explosion of a lifetime occurred. It could be compared to an atom bomb, but it was dark green in color -- soft, hard, and runny. A blend of stool. Some of it ended up on the sides of the bowl. Some in the back of the bowl. But most of it sunk to the bottom of the bowl when it hit the water. There were a few floaters that looked like whipped green mousse topping and were about the size of a moon pie. The level of the water rose about two inches." Hughes was equally graphic about the smell of his concoction. "My industrial-size fan in the master bedroom was no match for the fallout. The smell radiated out of the bathroom and right into the hallway and bedroom. It was not a pleasant smell. Lysol could not put a dent in this foul evil green monster that rested in the bottom of the bowl. After several flushes and several hours of spraying, it was finally tolerable. Good thing my wife was at work. "This episode took about fifteen minutes from start to finish. My BM the next day was normal, with no remnants of that green monster." After his initial success in the Collard Green contest, Carson Hughes was again encouraged by Grandma Stein to keep his competitive (and stomach) juices flowing. At her urging, he entered the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest in Norfolk, Virginia. Of the 25 participants, Hughes's chief competition at the contest was Crazy Legs Conti (that's the actual name on his driver's license), who held the #16 ranking in the IFOCE. There was also a military gentleman who went by the handle of Top Dog. Rules of the competition were simple: eat as many hot dogs with buns as possible in a twelve-minute period. Without vomiting. The impressive mall crowd watched as each contestant was given two plates with five hot dogs each to start. Hughes used French's Yellow Mustard. The eating began. "I had eaten five hot dogs in two minutes," Hughes said. "I wanted to keep at least one ahead of Crazy Legs Conti, if possible. After twelve minutes of intense eating and drinking plenty of water, I had won -- eating sixteen dogs in twelve minutes, while Conti was only on his fifteenth. His record was eighteen." The hot dog aftermath, however, was far less dramatic and traumatic than that of the collard greens contest. "I left the mall around five and arrived home around 6:30. It was at this time that I made a run for the bathroom. Again, down with the pants and plop on the seat. This time the stool was soft, but with substance -- medium to dark brown, and it did not float. More of a log appearance. When the toilet was flushed, it swirled around before making its final exit." The serenity of his pooping experience makes sense, considering that collard greens are almost all roughage, while frankfurters in buns contain practically none at all. It is also interesting to note that in both instances, Hughes consumed an inordinate amount of water to help everything go down smoothly. From there, Hughes launched his official IFOCE-sanctioned career. As a veteran now, he has come up with a term for the anal aftermath of all his furious consumption. "I call it 'unpacking the suitcase.' Like when you go on a big trip and pack the suitcase, sitting on top of it and stuffing in as much as possible; and when you get ready to unpack the contents, they come out explosively -- flying everywhere uncontrollably." Hughes emphasizes that people should not try competitive eating at home because choking can easily occur, and, unlike at IFOCE-sanctioned events, medics are not going to be close at hand for rescue purposes. Even then, IFOCE events aren't without their dangers -- when it comes to pooping, the competitors are still strictly on their own. Post new comment
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