I tried the Mount Everest Ice Cream Challenge at Rosy's Ice Cream and Diner. 15 scoops of ice cream and all of the toppings with a 40-minute time limit. It used to be 30, but no one was succeeding. Someone who works there told me they had increased it to 45 minutes, but when we went in, the person who was there said it was actually 40 minutes. Still, if the world champion ice cream eater can do 1.75 gallons in 8 minutes, surely I could do the 60 oz in 40 minutes, right?
Nope. The guy who had committed to trying the challenge alongside me bailed (some BS about pulling a muscle in his back and having to take ibuprofen, which was messing with his stomach, plus an extra unneeded detail about his anal fissures). Thankfully, my coworker's daughter stepped up, even though she'd just had some cake at her baby shower. Being pregnant was cheating a little bit, but I was just glad to not be the only one trying. I started off strong, making a huge dent, trying to get as much down before losing momentum. I'd say the first 5 scoops went down without a hitch. I definitely slowed up as I approached the half-way mark. No brain freeze, and I wasn't cold, but the ice cream was just too much sweetness, and I had run out of stomach capacity.
My competitor had caught up with me, and passed me, but she finally gave up with maybe a third of Mount Everest to go. I wasn't too far behind, and I got a few more bites in, but after there was only 10 minutes left and too much remaining on my plate, I told them to go ahead and write my name on the Wall of Shame.
I didn't puke while I was there, or on the ride home, and I thought I could get by without the exorcism, but my body finally decided to expel a significant amount of it. I feel much better now. Yeah, I'd say I'm now smart enough to never try that again. No more eating challenges for me. Perhaps now I'll turn into Mr. Sensible Portions.
