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Tales of a Post-Grad Nothing

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Man Size Steak, Man Size Fun

When searching for novelty, there are a few words that can tip you off. Basically if something can be delivered by the:

1. Buttload
2. Fistfull
3. Trough,

you automatically know that it will be high in novelty value, no questions necessary. I wasn't excited about going to the Charles City Steak Festival until I saw that it's portions would be "MAN SIZE W/TRIMMINGS," as my ticket noted. MAN SIZE eh? Now you've got my attention.

As it turned out the Charles City Steak Festival was "Man Size" in every conceivable way. Man Size trucks filled with Man Size men in khakis and boating shoes lined the parking lot. Man Size slabs of meat cooked on 2, 25-foot Man Size grills positioned to the side of the Man Size country music band that insisted on calling Jimmy Buffet, Jimmy "Boo-fay." Everything was big, sweaty, and slathered in a protective coating of testosterone. With the backdrop of Berkeley Plantation, "Virginia's Most Historic Plantation," the Steak Festival was the cultural equivalent of watching the Superbowl while eating apple pie in the back of a Hummer limo. Never, ever has anything more stereotypically American happened in the history of time. The Steak Fest included:

1. More people with flames embroidered on their clothing than I have ever seen in my life (and that includes that time that I saw a hearse demolition derby in Pennsylvania. I cheered for the green one.).
2. More meat than I have ever seen in my life. 2, 25-foot grills piled high with meat fed the 100 or so men and approximately 15 women who came out to support the Charles City Ruritan club.
3. Eating said meat off of saw horses.
4. An unlimited supply of liquor. Unlimited. Do you hear that people? There was no limit.
5. Beer you can pour yourself directly out of the truck. Forget the useless middle man. The Charles City Steak Festival allows you to POUR AS MUCH BEER AS YOU LIKE DIRECTLY OUT OF THE SIDE OF A TRUCK.
6. A raffle in which you could win either hams or guns. The boyfriend and I put in our cash to win the guns, but it was not to be had.

Allow me to recap. You can drive out to a plantation, imbibe as much as you like (preferably from the side of a truck), dance a country jig, eat a gigantic slab of meat from a saw horse, win yourself a gun, and drive home. The people were nice. The music was catchy. The food was, if nothing else, plentiful. Experiencing a total meatgasm on the way home, I just wished that my Euro friends were here to see this. Pictures forthcoming (hopefully).

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