Wednesday, April 6, 2011

A Senate Page

When I was sixteen my father asked me a strange question. “Would you like to be a Senate Page?”
“Sure.” I said. I had no idea what he was talking about. But over the next few months it became more and more clear to me. Being a Senate Page meant that I was going to go and live in Washington D.C. I was going to work in the Capital Building, and go to school in a specially constructed classroom environment in the top floor of the Library of Congress.

My first days as a page were all about getting to know your environment, where you were going to live and who you were going to share your space with. I image it is much the same experience as someone going off to boarding school or summer camp. The only difference was that I was in the nations capital and was a federal employee working on the Senate floor.

The days were very long, though they varied a lot depending on whether or not the Senate was in session. Usually I got up around four thirty in the morning and went to school for a few hours. I was a junior in High School. All pages are. After school we went immediately to the Capital and began preparing for a days work. Dress was very formal, a blue suit and tie. Our duties might include running errands for the Senate staffers that manned the Democratic and Republican cloak rooms, set up of the Senate floor, that included laying out all the bills and amendments that were to be discussed, or doing secretarial work including answering calls and making copies.

As you might imagine the Capital is a building full of history, and everywhere you looked there were objects baring the marks of history, Davy Crockett’s desk or the Senate Gavel that was cracked by Richard Nixon. The people there were historic too. Among the Senators that I worked with were Strom Thurmond, Ted Kennedy, Bob Dole, Robert Bird, George Bush (who as V.P. sometimes made appearances as the President of the Senate) and John Glenn.

I was a Senate page for approximately six month during the ninety-ninth and one-hundredth congress in nineteen eighty-six and seven. I was there for the Senate Iran-Contra hearings, Cory Aquino’s address to a joint session of Congress, the appointment of Rehnquist as chief Justice and the appointment of his replacement Scalia to the Supreme Court.

Some of my best memories included taking the subway all around the city. My particular favorite place to go was Georgetown. We lived in dorms that were two floors of the house office buildings adjacent to the capital. The Smithsonian and all the monuments on the capital mall including the Lincoln memorial and the Washington monument were in my back yard. I was paid an annual salary and saved almost a thousand dollars during my time there, though this money was stolen shortly after my return home during a party I had thrown at my parents house.

It is hard for me to talk about the experience as anything more than matter of fact. The most remarkable thing about being a senate page is the way people look at you when you tell them that you were a senate page. For me the experience is more than twenty years old and is just another in a list of stories that I like to tell. But when I see the wide eyes of the people I tell it to, I begin to realize how special that time was, and it makes me appreciate it all the more.

The five pound burrito

A couple of weeks ago I was sitting with some friends at a local taqueria having a few beers when one of then pointed out that the restaurant had recently implemented an eating challenge. The challenge was simple enough eat a five pound burrito (FPB) in an hour. Being a fan of eating shows like “Man vs. Food” I was curious about the challenge and even went so far as to boldly announce that I thought I could do it. My friends were skeptical, particularly because the FPB came with a fiery habanera sauce. To quell their doubts I lifted a small cup of the habanera sauce and downed it in one gulp. Impressed with my tolerance for spicy foods the conversation soon shifted, but the next day I was contacted by one of my friends who said that if I was serious about eating the burrito, he would bankroll the operation. I agreed. A date was set. The challenge was on.

If you haven’t figured this out by now, I am an impulsive person. I frequently say and do things that are spontaneous and have, on occasion, gotten myself into situations that are a bit over my head. One such episode even culminated in getting me thrown out of graduate school, but that is another story. Still, the thing about being impulsive is that I truly believe that I can do the things that I say I can and I generally do not brag or boast simply to puff myself up. My impulsive decision to engage in the challenge was not part of any attempt to put my money where my mouth was. Rather, I believed that I actually could eat the FPB.

Over the next couple of days I spent some time thinking about the challenge. I went to various competitive eating websites and looked at the techniques suggested by people who regularly invest themselves in these sorts of challenges. The recommendations included drinking lots of water and eating water laden fruits and vegetables like cabbage or grapes. Most important of all was not to starve yourself prior to the event. Starvation can cause the stomach to contract and shrink and was not advised.

The morning of the event I went to the gym for a light run. A little exercise, I thought, would build my appetite. Also, I began to psych myself up. I tried to visualize myself eating the burrito including the all important last bite. This wasn’t very hard as I knew that I was going to finish the FPB. After the gym I went to work, taught for a few hours than went home picked up my daughter and drove to the taqueria.

My friends had all talked about coming out in support of the event, but I arrived early and no one had arrived. I ordered the burrito and sat down patiently awaiting its arrival. Slowly friends and well wishers began to trickle in until, by the time the burrito actually arrived, I was surrounded by a fairly good crowd of people.

The actual eating of the FPB was not all that ceremonious. It was shaped like a pizza and was at least four inched thick, filled with rice, beans, lettuce, cheese and of course habanera sauce. I picked up a knife and cut it into three parts and began to devour it. I knew that I had to eat it quickly, before my mind and body began talking to each other and before satiety sank in. I managed to eat the first two thirds of the FPB in about twenty five minutes, and began eating the last third.

A couple of things stand out in my mind about this time, first one of my friends kids kept jeering and poking me which was an almost constant distraction. In all honesty I can’t say if this distraction was good or bad. The other thing that I remember was that at some point around the beginning of the last third, something happened to my taste buds and the actual flavor of the FPB became unpleasant. I have tried to describe this experience to several people, and the closest I can come is to say imagine if someone handed you a urinal cake and asked you to take a bite of it. Imagine what the experience of taking the first few bites would be like. Imagine the revulsion that your body and mind might experience as you felt the substance enter your mouth. Now multiply that by about four pounds of food in your already distended stomach.

Needless to say there came a point where the experience of eating became so unpleasant that I could no longer shovel food into my mouth. I simply could not get the food past my tongue. Every bite, even something as simple as a bite of lettuce tasted so horrible, and felt so poisonous that I could not will myself to swallow it. In the end I stared down at what was probably the last ten bites knowing that I could not finish them. At that point the realization that I was full really kicked in, so I made the only choice I could, I decided to throw up what I could and get rid of it.

In the aftermath of what amounted to my failure, I heard that aside from the one guy that ever finished the FPB, I got closer than anyone ever had. That, at least, was some small consolation. But what some might see as defeat turned out to be a nice afternoon. My friends, gathered around me continued to enjoy the afternoon and soon the party moved to a house and went late into the evening. What started as an impulsive statement turned into an event that brought friends together and culminated in a fun afternoon. By all accounts that in itself is a success.

The aftermath of the burrito is something altogether different. My stomach continues to feel stretched and uncomfortable, and worse, even now, several days later, eating is not a pleasant experience. I suspect that what I really need is several days of stretching and exercise. But really haven’t been able to find the time. I comfort myself in the knowledge that the event brought people together and that despite the aftermath, it was fun. I would never try it again, but I don’t have any regrets.