The Ravages of All-You-Can-Eat-Sushi

Dear Internet,

Chicago, January 2010. Five degrees Farenheit. Snow showers. Wind out of the Southeast at 20 miles per hour. Obviously sushi weather. As I walked down 53rd I had a sinking feeling that sushi may be the wrong decision, especially as I glanced at the Gyros Store. Perhaps a Hot or Polish Dog would be better... In any event, we made our way to the sushi restaurant.

Pushing against the wind and into the restaurant, the hot air warmed my face, making my eyes tear. I smelled Miso soup and I knew I was home. We were quickly led to a table, given menus, and offered ALL YOU CAN EAT SUSHI for $20.99 -- tax and tip not included. "What a deal!" I thought as I quickly computed how much it would cost to get what I wanted at ala carte prices. Well that's where I went wrong.

"All You Can Eat Sushi" is a scam. It's not all you can eat. You have to gluttonously eat everything you ordered or your bill at the end of the meal will be astronomical. Not to mention gaseous.

Invariably I order more food than my stomach can handle. So some Miso soup, edamame, a spicy tuna roll, a Philadelphia roll (even considering the impending battle the cream cheese would have with my stomach), Gyoza, one piece of Super White Tuna, a piece of Yellowtail, and green tea ice cream (not to mention the Sierra Mist and glass of water) later and I was ready to die. My stomach had filled with who knows what, flapping over my favorite pair of black skinny jeans, my leg warmers were suddenly tighter, cutting off blood flow to my feet, and the Clown Fish happily swimming along in the tank next to my table were angering me. Why do I do this to myself? I can barely finish regular dinner, let alone plate after plate of uncooked fish.

All I could think about was getting home and putting on sweat pants. This is truly an American cultural phenomenon. I don't know any Europeans who even own sweat pants, let alone any who press out into the cold, cold night to put a pair on. I was so full I couldn't even finish my Stella. And I passed out on the couch at 9:45 PM, waking up only to go to my bed.

So here's the deal. It's not even really a scam. It's a challenge being waged on Americans. Everyone knows we love food, sales, and cheap things. We love Target. We can't get enough of coupons. We go into orgasmic trance when we learn that if we get a new credit card we get 20% off whatever we bought that day -- forgetting we never had the cash to begin with and that a 30% APR is awful. (By the way, I got a 25% Off Coupon from The Gap for my birthday.) We are truly idiots, and everyone else knows it. This is how they are going to conquer us: food coma, clogged arteries, and sales. It's going to be like the fall of the Roman Empire, but instead of the Gauls or the Germans it's going to be food injected directly into our blood stream and clothes shipped to us just by thinking about them.

We need to stand up to this new form of terrorism. Otherwise, we're going to be confused, tired, and slow and we won't be able to fight it off. I can just see it now: people everywhere are trying to get their pants on and shirts over their heads and they become tangled up in themselves and the damn French swoop in and take Lady Liberty back. We cannot let this happen.

If you don't believe me, just read Saunders' latest Shouts & Murmurs piece in The New Yorker, Heavy Artillery. It's a vision of the future.

Regards,
Shelly