The premise is: What if you went on a business trip and tried to eat at every restaurant in the city?
Some people might find business trips boring, but he always enjoyed them. It wasnât the long days spent in meetings that he enjoyed, though. No. What he really liked about these trips was the opportunity to explore the culinary delights of new cities. He always took it as a personal challenge to hit as many spots as possible. After all, it might be his only chance in a particular location, so it was best to make the most of it!
His hotel was perfectly situated downtown, surrounded by restaurants and bars. He pulled off his tie and threw it aside, loosened his collar, and opened the maps app on his phone to scout out the food scene. He knew some of his colleagues were going to be doing a bar crawl tonight, but his plan was differentâa dinner crawl. Scrolling through the pictures in reviews, his mouth started watering already. Once his game plan was set, he left his air-conditioned room and made his way down to the lobby and onto the sidewalk outside.
The heat and humidity hit him like a wet blanket after the cool, dry hotel air. A few drops of sweat beaded on his brow immediately, and the smells of pavement and car exhaust filled his nose. A few breaths later, the food smells from the restaurants started to hit.
His first stop was a fast casual Mexican food place just a block away with good reviews where he planned to grab a couple of barbacoa tacos. The line was out the door, but he was in no hurry. There was a special, so the two tacos heâd planned on turned into three tacos. They did not disappoint. What a good start to the night, he congratulated himself.
With those three tacos under his belt making his belly feel warm and comfortable, he headed on to the next place heâd chosen, a trendy Asian-Cajun fusion place. They seated him at the bar, and he ordered a sweet tea and downed most of it right away, as he was thirsty after the tacos and the walk in the heat. For an appetizer, he chose tempura fried shrimp served with Cajun remoulade dipping sauce. The sauce had a kick, but he made short work of it, along with a refill of sweet tea. His entrĂŠeâa big bowl of gumbo-inspired ramenâwas spicier than the dip but not too spicy for him to finish.
By the time he slurped up the last of the ramen, his belly was sloshy and bloated with tea and broth, and he was very aware of his belt buckle. He stopped at the restroom on his way out, loosening his belt a couple of notches and admiring how his belly filled out his shirt. The fabric was pulled snug, but the buttons were not gaping. Several long belches arose, relieving some of the pressure that was building in his belly. He felt quite full, and he acknowledged most people would stop now and probably even complain of having eaten too much. Not him, though. He wasnât at his limit yet.
Back on the street, he was greeted by a hazy, amber sunset and the bustle of nightlife starting to pick up. Cars honked. The smells and heat were as oppressive as ever. In fact, it felt even more humid than it had when he left his hotel. However, that didnât deter him. He had one more stop to make!
The third restaurant heâd chosen was an award-winning farm-to-table cafĂŠ with a rotating seasonal menu. Heâd kick himself if he was so close but didnât try it. It was several blocks away, and his bloated belly made the walk less comfortable than the first two stops. The heat didnât help. Several more burps, which tasted of the spicy sea food heâd just eaten, came up as he walked.
He immediately loved the atmosphere of the restaurant, with glowing string lights hanging over the patio area, rustic dĂŠcor and herb planters scattered about the place. He didnât choose an appetizer this time, but he did order a house cocktail. He considered the grass-fed burger, but in the end, he decided on the braised short ribs with roasted seasonal vegetables.
The serving was larger than he anticipated. Maybe at the beginning of the night, he wouldnât have thought so, but with two meals in his stomach already, it looked like a lot of food. It was delicious, though. And he was made for thisâhe loved a good eating challenge. Every bite burst with flavor on his tongue even as his belly sat heavier and heavier in his lap. He could feel his belt buckle digging mercilessly into his underbelly, and his shirt stretched tighter and tighter across his swelling gut. Surreptitiously, he reached under the table and loosened his belt the rest of the way.
When the server came by to collect his empty plate and suggest peach cobbler Ă la mode for dessert, he didnât have the strength to say no. It was even more delicious than the short ribs, if that was possible, even though he was so full he could barely swallow. It took him a while, but he managed to finish his dessert. With the last bite, he felt a surge of triumph and elation. He had done it. For a few minutes, he just sat back in his chair, trying to catch his breath.
Staggering back out onto the street after settling his bill, he realized he had made a slight error in judgement. Usually, he was back in his room with takeout when he reached this food-drunk state, not a twenty minute walk away. The heat was as oppressive as ever, especially since heâd been sitting outside on the patio. The only thing keeping his shirt from being as plastered to his sweaty back as it was to his swollen belly was the undershirt he wore beneath. Was the undershirt riding up a little? His belt, even on the loosest hole, felt like it was squeezing him in two. Or was that the waistband of his pants? He was desperate to unbutton them, but he knew this belt wouldnât hide it if he did.
He set off in the direction of his hotel, trudging miserably, fighting to breathe, fighting to avoid throwing up all the wonderful food he had eaten. He struggled to suck in his stomach to keep it from jostling too much. He felt like he had a million pounds of food in his stomach. Every heavy footfall on the sidewalk sent reverberations back up to his overstuffed belly and triggered a case of the hiccups. He really didnât think he was going to make it.
Then he spotted his salvationâa bench. He collapsed onto it with a groan, legs splayed, one hand resting on his protruding stomach in a futile attempt to soothe it. The need to pop open the button of his pants had become all the more dire, but he felt too embarrassed to do it with all the people walking by.
He plastered a weak smile on his face, trying to look like a man enjoying the evening rather than one coping with the miserable regret of a stomach about to burst. He should have chosen a restaurant closer to the hotel and saved the cafĂŠ for tomorrow. His greed and eagerness to try interesting restaurants had gotten the better of him.
Time passedâhe wasnât sure how much. The traffic squealed and honked a few feet away from him, and twilight turned into darkness. The hiccups had subsided, but he still panted for breath, giving his stomach an occasional rub as burps continued to come up. The street became busier as people and music spilled out of the bars. He considered calling an Uber, but the idea of paying for a ride for just a few blocks pricked at his pride.
Eventually, he felt well enough to stand up again, though the effort made him groan. He swayed on his feet for a moment, finding his balance with his still-overstuffed belly before resuming his trudge back to his hotel. The cool air of the lobby was a much-needed relief from the sticky, oppressive air outside. He nodded weakly at the front desk clerk, who gave him a knowing look.
âRough night?â the man asked, assuming he was drunk.
Alone in the elevator, he finally released the button on his pants and cradled his stomach in both hands. Not caring whether security cameras were catching him he whispered, âNever again.â
But deep down, he knew that wasnât true. Heâd already planned out tomorrowâs dinner crawl route.
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