When All-You-Can-Eat isn't that

After being recommended this story about a fatty in Wisconsin who is probably still picketing a restaurant who cut him off after he states that he ate too much fish, I was reminded about my own all-you-can-eat fiasco of sorts.

It was probably ten years ago but I still remember it fairly well. I, along with my girlfriend and a few of my close friends loaded up the car and headed out to the mall in the city where I lived at the time. It was Sunday and Sunday meant all-you-can-eat hard shell tacos. There were nothing fancy -- ground beef tacos seasoned fairly well and topped with lettuce, cheddar cheese and diced tomatoes. The cost was appealing -- $5.95 for a basket of three hard shell tacos was the regular price and that price was the same for the all-you-can-eat Sunday special.

I don't honestly know what the others in my party ordered but I sure as hell ordered the all-you-can-eat tacos and a Coke to drink.

Within a few minutes my basket of three hard shell tacos arrived and mere minutes later I had eaten them. The waitress arrived back at our table and asked if I would like more tacos. Of course I said "Yes, please" and asked for another glass of Coke as well.

This time the basket of tacos arrived more slowly. It probably took fifteen minutes, bringing the time we had spent at the now-closed Diamond Dave's Mexican Restaurant to about 40 minutes. I spent about another ten minutes eating this basket of tacos bringing my total to a measly six hard shell tacos (weeks earlier I had eaten three baskets -- 9 tacos -- when I visited with co-workers).

I looked around from the comfort of my chair for our waitress. The restaurant, with the time now closing in on 1:00 PM, was basically deserted except for our table. The waitress was nowhere to be seen. I decided to walk up to the bar at the front of the restaurant. I asked the helpful bartender for another basket of three tacos, she said they'd be right out.

Magically, a few minutes later, our waitress arrived. She brought the check instead of my tacos. I wasn't happy. How was this all I could eat? I asked for a third basket of tacos, was promised a third basket of tacos and was brought my check -- a sort of signal that it was time for us to leave and that I wouldn't get another refill of Coke. I wouldn't get that third tasty basket of tacos. And the waitress would get a tip of about a dollar.

Was I wrong to be upset about this experience? I'm not some hideously obese beast that would have sat there all day eating tacos, demanding more and more until they closed the doors and ushered me out. I was in my early twenties at the time and had a rather healthy appetite and knew a good deal when I saw it. I do know that I voted with my wallet after that experience and never returned but as I'm writing this my taste buds are craving some of those freshly made tacos.