by BobbyO
When my girlfriend suggested we just eat the feis buffet, I was sceptical. I was sure a fast food junkie like me would find NOTHING I'd be willing to spend money on eating. These people were so buff I was sure they never ate anything that wasn't 100% healthy. WRONG!
We got in line behind about 30 Irish dancers, families, and fans. The dancers still wore wigs, shoes, and makeup ( which was surprising considering the glitter trail on the floor) but instead of the works-of-art dresses, most wore shorts and tank tops or sweats. Which makes sense, considering what those dresses cost. ("This? Oh no, it's not a Celtic symbol. It's my lunch.")
As we approached the serving area I was thinking how much I detested broccoli and greens but when I got to the trays, there wasn't a broccoli or bean sprout in sight. The only green stuff I even saw was shredded lettuce that the server was putting on a big, roast beef sub. That was the only "healthy" food on the line, folks!
The food choices were turkey, ham, and roast beef subs, chicken nuggets, hot dogs, pizza slices,and macaroni and cheese! Oh, and nachos. The fast food pyramid, right? The only thing I didn't see was hamburgers, but there were four fastfood burger franchises around the hotel, so maybe they were trying to offer variety?
I got myself a hotdog and nachos and a big chocolate chip cookie the size of a CD. Mmmm!"
We sat down with a dancing couple my girlfriend knows. They were eating turkey subs and diet sodas. I suppose that's considered weight watching. I said so.
Silky laughed. (I'll call her that because she had a silk dance shawl peeking out from under the man's shirt she was wearing to cover up her black dress.) "The menus at these things are definitely not geared toward weight-conscious adults! Look around you. The average age of these dancers is probably twelve. They burn calories like race horses. You just hope that Mom has packed away a few fruits and veggies for a snack."
Dancin' Dad laughed. "They probably do what our kids do. Trade them off to some diet-conscious college girl for a Crunchie."
A Crunchie? Isn't that what girls tie up their ponytails with? I am bewildered when my table companions burst into laughter.
After lunch I am dragged off to the area known as the "Vendor's Room". It is full of people selling and buying shoes, dresses, toys, Irish memorabilia, and things that dancers have to have. We stop at a table filled with enough candy to kill a roomful of diabetics, and my girlfriend picks up a gold-wrapped candy bar. "This," she says, "is a Crunchie." Oh.
The Crunchie tastes like that Cinnamon-toast cereal without the cinnamon and covered with chocolate. It seems to be a hot item here. Another one going fast is something called Flake which comes in a blue-and-yellow wrapper.
"Don't you DARE eat that with your dress on! " snaps a mother. "I KNOW, I KNOW!" snaps the child. Chocolate is forbidden to dressed-up dancers, apparently.
While we're watching the second round of something or other in the laced up slippers, I try a Flake. A shower of chocolate crumbs cascades down the front of my State U. tee shirt. Flake. Well-named. I understand why dancers don't eat it in costume. It's bad enough to have glitter and rhinestones falling all over the place, much less chocolate flakes.
"Do dancers always eat this way?" I ask.
"Of course they don't," I am told. I'm glad to know that. I think. I still can't believe I came to the Hilton and ate a hot dog.
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