If you meet anyone at a hostel, chances are they’re not the type of person to half-arse things. They’re not staying there for the comfort. You can guarantee that they’re not the type of person that will have ‘a couple of beers’; they’ll have a couple of beers for breakfast, then a bottle of bourbon for brunch. They won’t sit and have a cigarette with you; they’ll have a packet of cigarettes with you (probably your cigarettes because we’re all poor, and probably another bottle of bourbon ’cause we’re mostly all alcoholics). So when a fellow Samesun resident announced – presumably drunkenly – that he was going to try and eat the 2-pound burger at the Two Parrots, it was less of a surprise and more of a group mission. A mission that would involve one person attempting to eat a stupid amount of food while another two ordered a plate of fries and four pints each to watch. I was one of the brave souls that stood down and courageously drank beers, making humorous observations and mentally documenting what was happening with the hopes of personal gain in the future. That time has arrived.
First of all, unless you’re a giant fatty, you have no real way to accurately estimate how big the burger will be so you’ll need to prepare. For this, our brave comrade skipped both dinner the night before and breakfast on the day of the big event, then went for a several-hours long walk around restaurant heavy parts of town.
Second of all, when they say ‘two pound burger’, that’s two pounds of meat alone – there’s also a mushroom field, a loaf of bread, about 400 tomatoes, several kilos of cheese and a lot more that I can’t remember*.
* slight exaggeration may have been used when describing quantities.
We met at 2:30 and were seated somewhere in the back, near the window and with a good view of the TV to keep his mind off the literal shit-tonne of food that he was about to try and stomach. It would take me no less than 1000 words to describe the monstrosity they brought out, so this photo will have to do.
If you have never seen someone eat a disgustingly large portion of food before, think of that mopey friend you have that gets sad and doesn’t say much when you go out for beers. He just sort of flops around drunkenly, bringing little to the table and just letting all your taunts and ridicules bead off like the sweat on his stupid sweaty face. That’s not really an accurate description of being food drunk (frunk?), but it does sort of touch on how it is. The person will stop saying anything. They will get bloated and just sort of look around aimlessly. They will even start to stumble like a drunk. And, like a drinker, they’ll attempt to carry on past what their body can handle.
He went on to eat about another half of what’s in that photo. He didn’t get right to the end but it was a valiant effort and lead to an hilariously wobbly walk back to the hostel. Before he went to sleep it off though, he wanted to try one more thing. He’d heard about a trick whereby if you drink a whole bunch of milk really quickly, you’ll spew. Perfect. Just throw a litre of milk on top of the roughly 6 kilos of food in your stomach. He wouldn’t be swayed so we rushed over to 7Eleven and got him a carton. I’m sketchy on the details from here but suffice it to say a lot of the milk got drank and a lot of the food came out.
Now I’ve known me for a while and I know that if I’d been in his situation, I’d be bed-ridden for the next two days. This guy is not me. This guy decided to walk it off. He left the hostel the next day and ambled on over to Stanley Park, moseyed on over the bridge and through North Vancouver to Grouse Mountain. Then did the Grouse Grind in less than an hour. At the very least, that’s 21 minutes faster than the average time. And he did it after walking there from the freakin’ hostel!
So like I said: generally not the types to half-arse it.