I’m going to be on television.
And it’s not going to be pretty.
No, really. My face is going to be smeared with oily, red volcano sauce that is the direct result from me taking a bite of a burrito and dragging out kim chi with my teeth.
How did I get myself into this humiliating and nationally broadcasted spectacle?
I’ll tell you.
Last friday, a coworker came up to the office and announced that there was a full camera crew set up downstairs to film a man attempting to eat a 7 lb burrito.
Well, of course, I cry, “Oh my god! We have to get down there. We can be on T.V.”
Boy, did I not know the half of it.
I gather a crew of curious coworkers and we take the elevator down to the first floor to the small, yet totally irresistible corner store that sells these wondrous burritos.
Sure enough, there’s a camera crew, a young man getting ready to eat the monstrous burrito, and his incredibly supportive girlfriend.
So I’m, like, “I’m READY for my 15 minutes of fame!”
Okay, let’s stop here and think about this statement.
Out of everyone on this planet (or at least in this city) I should NOT be the one who’s allowed to have 15 minutes of fame… I recite creepy poems under my breath for god’s sake! And I definitely thought I could talk to whales at one point in my life… NO ONE SHOULD EVER ALLOW ME ON TELEVISION.
Anyway, we sign release forms for being in the background as they shoot the show and I’m all about it. I’m, like, oh hells yeah! I’m gonna be an extra for a tv show. I’m gonna be the best freaking spectator they ever had spectating ever!
Shockingly, I actually was.
No, I’m serious.
They pulled me aside and asked if I could be interviewed about the whole experience because, well, who wouldn’t want to know my opinion about stuffing tortilla, meat, and spicy sauce into a man’s mouth?
I’m, of course, 100% sure I’m going to be discovered and someone will come and ask me if I want to be in Star Wars VII.
*Side note: I actually considered auditioning for the newest Star Wars in real life. Okay, I more than considered it. I actually started filming an audition tape to send in to the producers… but we don’t have to get into the depravity of that thought process right now.
Anyway, they strap a microphone on me and shove a burrito in my hands and start asking me all these questions.
Then, it’s like i’m drunk or something. Seriously, I don’t know what the hell I was going on about. I start talking about being single and how my ideal boyfriend would TOTALLY be in a contest to win me a year’s supply of burritos.
Then, since I hadn’t embarrassed myself enough already, the crew comes in to add a little more shame to my shaming.
They have me take a bite out of the burrito, juices dripping down my chin, staining my face red. They’re still asking me questions and I’m trying to answer them with a full burrito bite in my mouth. You can just say I was looking goooooooood.
Then the woman is asking me to wipe away the red sauce on my face.
I try to do what she tells me but end up just smearing more sauce across my chin… because that’s just the kind of luck I have.
“One more time,” she instructs me about trying to get the red mess off of my face.
“Am I not cute?” I ask because, honestly, are they really expecting me to be cute at this point?
“You kind of look like a vampire,” she responds.
“… Aren’t vampires ‘in’ these days?” I ask trying to make the best of my first ever television appearance which is quickly falling into shambles.
After a while i’ve sufficiently smeared the red sauce across my face so that it no longer looks like a smudge but instead like the lower half of my face is naturally a bright orange. The woman is ready to ask me her next question: What is the spice level of the burrito?
I tell her honestly: it’s a little spicy but nothing that a person can’t handle.
Dumbest. Thing. I’ve. Ever. Said.
I’m then asked to swallow a spoonful of the sauce…made with ghost peppers mind you AND I agree to it!
Anything for fame right?
What happens next?
My throat feels like I stabbed it and I’m gasping. Nose running, eyes tearing, sweat dripping across my forehead and all of it’s on film. I can’t get out of this one. My debut on national television and I look like I was just hit by a fucking bus.
She then thanks me for my time and asks me to please go back and watch the rest of the burrito eating challenge. I have to do what she asks because their microphone is still strapped to my body but inside there is a fire raging. A battle. I’m talking Lannisters versus Starks. It’s stabbing my stomach and I know what’s coming…
Did you ever watch that episode of South Park? The one about Chipotle and the bathroom devastation that comes along afterwards.
Oh, ho ho. That episode really touched on the battle that was raging inside of me as I stood obediently watching this man continue to eat and trying not to think about the next hour at work.
FINALLY, relief! A very nice man comes to remove the microphone from my shirt and I BOOK it up the stairs where I down a glass of my coworker’s milk. Then, I know, it’s a waiting game. I have to wait until my stomach decides that it’s had enough of the spice and explodes.
I call it Thundercats! My best friend calls it 911 EMERGENCY.
In the mean time, it’s a different coworker’s last day and she comes to ask me if I’ll be joining them for a drink. All I can do is turn with terror as the thunder hits and respond with a forlorn shake of the head and uneasily stand to make my way to the bathroom.
Now for all of your sakes, I won’t go into detail about what happened next, but what I will say is that there were people primping and having a dandy ol’ time in the ol’ baño while I suffered through the most intense and evil waiting game I have ever played.
I guess that’s the price of fame though, huh?