People fast for many reasons; Religion, surgical procedures, and hunger strikes all require absolute abstinence from stuffing your face but for me it usually boils down to laziness. I don’t cook for myself and sometimes the day just isn’t long enough for me to find the time to eat, which is why I ended up at Hometown Buffet in the first place. The previous night was a blur of many things, most of which I won’t bring up in this article but one thing was certain when I woke up today, I definitely hadn’t eaten. I spent the better part of the morning suffering for my life choices while contemplating the best place to eat and since Chic-Fil-A is closed on Sunday I had to think of another option. I’ve walked passed this HTB several times a week for years and I always wondered what kind of food they could possibly serve at such low prices. After calling ahead and making reservations (they don’t take them) I made my way towards the promised land to fill my tiny belly with America’s favorite buffet/feeding trough while puffing away at my VVS disposable pen.
I took a seat in the surprisingly crowded seating area and planned my first move. Eating the wrong thing first could mean the end of my experience before it even started so I opted for a plate of food usually served as sides to accompany your actual dinner. Carrots, macaroni, and mashed potatoes with gravy are pretty hard to screw up and I wasn’t let down. I felt like there were worse things to eat as I finished the last of my veggies and I was right because it was time for me to move on to the next batch of gluttonous punishment.
The second round of cuisine courtesy of HTB was a bold move on my part. Cold meatloaf with what I assumed was stuffing and roast beef was the next obvious step on my journey towards culinary nirvana and after finishing the last of my corn on the cob I decided that vegetables are the only safe choice on the entire menu. Our server stopped by the table to ask if I had any questions, “Yes Tony, I have a lot of questions”.
Tacos are delicious, I basically rely on them as one of my three main food groups but this taco was different. It wasn’t so much a taco as it was just taco shaped food. The meat tasted like I paid a homeless person to chew it for me and birdie it into my mouth after smoking an entire pack of cigarettes and my stomach was demanding to know why I was treating it so harshly. I know that everyone says the dessert is the real reason to go to Hometown but I was tapped out.
As I sat there letting my body figure out what to do with the garbage I had just forced down I dreamed of a future where, like the Jetsons, food was unnecessary and people just took pills that tasted like entire meals. I turned to get out of my seat as No Doubt’s cover of “It’s my life” began to play on the restaurants speakers and the song finally made sense to me, it is my life and I won’t forget Gwen, thank you. As far as Hometown Buffet? I wouldn’t go back there even if Mrs. Stefani invited me.