Meat and greet

Last Thursday was Meg's birthday. To celebrate we went to a Brazilian steakhouse. I have never been to a Brazilian steakhouse before, and it doesn't work like a normal restaurant so as usual when I'm faced with something new, I reacted with fear and confusion. Essentially here is how it works: You pay a flat price. Included in the price of your meal is access to the salad bar. And I'm not talking about some lame little Bob's Big Boy salad bar. One of the four sides has a salad-making area. The other 3 sides are filled with every kind of salad made under the sun: lobster salad, potato salad, chicken salad, carrot salad, broccoli salad. And then they just throw the whole salad idea out the window by filling up the rest of the space with tortellini, asparagus, mahi mahi, green beans, etc. I mean I literally can't remember all of it.

And that is only the first part of your meal. After you gorge yourself on the salad bar, it's meat time. And I don't mean like you pick out a steak and eat it. No-that is apparently not enough meat for the Brazilians. What happens is men appear from out of the shadows and they are carrying meat. Big slabs of meat on spits and they come up to you and cut off a slice for you. Sixteen kinds of meat. Sixteen men bring out sixteen kinds of meat, and you can eat all of it as many times as you want. I mean they just keep coming back. "Top sirloin? Flank Steak? Rack of lamb?" It's really quite terrifying. They give you a little round coaster type thing. One side is red, the other is green. When you have it green side up that is a sign for the meat men that it's go time. When you are done or as our waiter put it "you need a break", turn the coaster to red side up. That stops the meat parade. By the way "meat parade" couldn't sound any dirtier. But that's literally what it was. A parade of meat.

At one point Diane couldn't take looking at the dead animal carcass on her plate anymore, and she had to cover it up with a napkin. I, too, reached a point where the thought of stuffing any more meat into my body made me want to puke. Boy-the double entendres are really piling up here.

I sat next to Kevin and Matt who apparently have an endless hunger for meat (ding! double entendre). I mean they wouldn't stop eating. They even looked up the list of meats and asked our waiter-twice-for meat that had apparently not made it to our table. This is after eating 14 other kinds of meat. They still wanted more. Then they got dessert. Matt got Bananas Foster because he thought they set it on fire. He said I had to eat it with him and when I refused he said, "You're getting some of this fiery love, and you don't even know it." Then Matt and I did it on the table surrounded by meat carcass. And by "did it on the table surrounded by meat carcass" I mean that after dessert he and Kevin went up and got some tortellini. I finally had to take Matt's fork away from him before he ate himself to death Se7en style.

You guys should try to go to one of these places if you ever get the chance. It is a trip. Meg, I hope you had an awesome birthday. And I'm sorry I said that the flank steak looked like poop sitting on my plate. What can I say-I really know how to class up a joint.