See Ya Later, Alligator

I saw a gruesome story recently from Florida's Everglades about a 13-foot Burmese Python which died after eating a 6-foot American alligator. Talk about indigestion!

The snake apparently swallowed the gator whole, then ruptured, leaving the carcass carnage behind. The Associated Press ran a great shot (shown at right) of the aftermath, where you can clearly see the hind legs and tail of the gator and what's left of the exploded snake.

This story touched me because I've almost been that snake more times than I can count, eating until the brink of bursting open. I've never wrapped my arms around my meal and crushed it until it suffocates, but I have skipped chewing to swallow large items whole several times. I guess I'm as close to a human python or anaconda there is.

Hopefully my wife won't find just my pelvis and legs near the carving station of the Old Country Buffet, making her realize I burst after trying to eat chicken, ribs, turkey, roast beef and pork instead of just picking one of the above.

Now that I've swelled up to 335 pounds, I probably should cut back before I pop. I'm not launching a full-scale battle of the bulge here. I haven't even mentioned the worst four-letter word I know (D-I-E-T). I'm just chewing around with the idea. I need to let it digest a while before starting my bay of pigs invasion.

When that day comes, it will be a huge challenge. I am totally addicted to food, a cheese & crackers whore. I would go to overeater's anonymous, but I don't think I would fit in because I don't hide my binges from anyone. Instead, I am like Bluto from Animal House, snarfing jello for everyone in the cafeteria to see (except I would never waste mashed potatoes by doing the very funny zit-popping impression).

I guess it started out when I was a baby. I was so obsessed with food that I would even fall asleep in it. My sister claims she saved me from drowning in a bowl of oatmeal, strained peas or other delicacies on more than one occasion.

As I got older, the addiction grew worse. When you're 7, yet you eat your Saturday morning monster cereal in a mixing bowl with a ladle or huge serving spoon, you've got a problem. The cereal obsession still lingers to this day, as does my craving for cartoons (the latter is another story for another day).

I got used to living large at the dinner table. My Dad's philosophy was if I put it on my plate, I should be able to eat it.

"Don't let your eyes ever get bigger than your stomach," Dad would preach. "You better eat up whatever you order or put on your plate, or I'll find somewhere else to stick it."

There were never any worries there. My eyes could never rival the size of my belly. I cleaned up my plate every time. Even back then, I was eating that Super Size Me pansy under the table at McDonald's. I was woolfing down a Big Mac, a large fries and a strawberry shake, then a hot cherry pie or McDonaldland cookies for dessert.

All my friends could talk about were Happy Meals. I ordered one and was not happy at all because it seemed more like an appetizer to me than a meal.

"Hey, Mrs. Manager, the Happy Meal didn't live up to its name," I told some lady at a Lynchburg, Virginia, location. "The best prize you could put in that box would be something else to eat, not some stupid toy!"

The manager laughed and gave me a free quarter pounder with cheese. My Dad was embarrassed that I traded in my toy for more food, but on the other hand he was proud of my negotiating skills.

Poor Dad had to pay a majority of my food bill for at least 20 years. Needless to say, he tried to take advantage of buffets to satisfy my appettite. Even if it involved a weekly debate.

He argued often with the manager of a local Chinese Restaurant over my age. The place advertised free buffet meals for kids 12 and under. I was 11 but I looked and ate like I was 17. The manager finally "carded" me, but I told him 11-year-olds don't have IDs.

"He over 12!" the manager yelled at Dad. "I no believe you. He 16 or 17. He foot taller than me and you say he 11?! Bring birth certificate next time or he owe for buffet."

My parents provided the proof the next week. I think Dad might have starved me for a couple of days beforehand so I would really take a dent out of that chow line. The buffet owner was pissed because I cleaned out the fried rice bin twice and he couldn't keep up with my egg roll and wonton consumption. Coincidentally, the next week the kids eat free policy was lowered to age 10.

In college, I ate and drank heavily with a bunch of buddies who shared my love for the food and drink. We went to the all-you-can-eat buffet places just to see how much damage we could do. I even got kicked out of Arby's in Fargo, North Dakota, when I was 19.

"Why are you kicking me out?" I complained. "I haven't even eaten half of what I could eat!"

"You guys are a bunch of pigs," the Arby's manager said. "Don't you feel the slightest bit guilty eating $200 worth of food for $4.99? You are abusing the all-you-can-eat salad bar privilege!"

I guess he was also really pissed that I had actually taken the tubs of potato salad and butterscotch pudding out of the ice bunker and back to my table. I tried telling him I had gotten tired of making trips back and forth to the salad bar and thought just taking the tubs would be easier because I was going to empty them out anyway.

Over 15 years, not much has changed other than my pants size. Oh, and now when I step on the scale, I just bury the needle (much like a speedometer disappears on floored sportscar). I'm a one-man Roman food orgy, minus the barfing afterwards.

My eyes still haven't been bigger than my stomach, but that would be a problem if my eyes ever got as big as medicine balls. Doctors say our stomach should be the size of our fist. My fist is huge, but I know my stomach is at least four times that big.

Maybe I'm not like that snake after all. Maybe I'm more like a cow with four stomachs who likes to bullshit a lot. Then again, I've also heard the term you are what you eat. If we really are what we eat, then I guess I'm not a snake. I'm a sprawling around-the-world buffet.