I promise to update soon with much better material, but frankly I just haven't felt like it. It's been a weird week. But I digress...I *do* have a story to tell.
Last Friday was a great day, just glorious weather, I had the day slightly off (I never really have the day off), it's my very favorite day of the week anyway--it was a perfect storm of goodness. Matt managed to get off work with a good chunk of the day to spare, and we headed off in the early afternoon to visit a friend who had just acquired a giant radio controlled Monster Truck so that we, too, could bask in it's freakish majesty.
When we left said friend's house, we had rumbly tummies, and I had Chinese food on the brain, thanks to a joke about Lo Mein flavored vodka I had shared with KatieKate. Now, just as you all do I'm sure, we have plenty of Chinese food options in K-town, and I have several favorites--the fancy (PF Changs), the authentic (Hong Kong House), and the giant and hideous buffet suitable for gorging. Y'all, it was just that kind of day, where quality was not wining me over in it's battle vs. quantity. So, Matt and I hit the Mandarin House Buffet (motto:"it ain't the best food in town, but by golly, there's a lot of it") and much gorging commenced.
After a pleasant enough meal from the trough, we rolled our overstuffed selves up to the register, which over looks the sunken bar area, and proceeded to pay for our mass quantities (Coneheads, right? Anyone?). Just over the register man's shoulder in the bar was a TV (what bar is complete without one?), and because we had been out and about so early, as we were leaving we were just catching the middle of the 6 o'clock news broadcast. Matt was signing the check and had barely finished the last "L" in Hall when the eager register man yanked the ticket from him and dashed into the bar to turn up the volume and watch the news story playing with several other huddled employees. Curious to see what was so bloody important, Matt and I leaned a bit to the left and watched ourselves. This, my dear friends, is what we saw.
We are fine, no one's intestines fell out or anything like that, but suffice it to say, I will visit the Mandarin NO MORE. The typical regret I feel at having over-eaten at the All-You-Can-Eatery is nothing compared to the feeling of knowing that, instead of just saying you might die, what you ate may actually kill you.
Searching for a new buffet in Knoxville....