Wednesday, 19 April 2006

Operation 85512301, not an international phone number
Only now have I recovered enough to speak of this event. Yes, Operation 85512301. What does it mean?
-8:00 P.M.
-5 guys
-5 spoons
-1 gallon of cookies and cream ice cream
-230, the Brownstone Apartment number
-1 Jesus to bring us all together
Still not making any sense? If you didn't follow the link to Ben's LiveJournal, then read on. If you did, read on anyway because I tell stories a little different. On that fateful day, Wednesday, April 12, the small-group Bible Studs gathered. Unable to engage in our weekly lunch meeting, we convened at 8:00 P.M. for a truly manly challenge. While we shared our week, Nate, Ben, Paul, Brandon, and I took on the challenge of eating an entire gallon of ice cream in one sitting. Two nights before, after I finished presenting the lesson, we decided on this lofty challenge and selected Cookies & Cream as our flavor. Healthy? No way. Smart? Of course not. Manly? To quote Groucho Marx, "You bet your life." Jordan and his friends have attacked pizzas, but to my knowledge, he has never attempted a feat of this nature with anyone.

We worked away at about a half gallon as we talked. I remember little of the conversation except noting that Public Relations took my picture while I was practicing in a piano room in Nykerk, so I could end up in a Hope College publication or on a website someplace. After we all shared how the previous week had been, we paused to look how much was left. Our hearts sank. Initially, the frozen dessert was delicious. But then our stomachs began to fill. Our faces twisted in pain between the sheer amount of ice cream we were consuming and the massive brain freeze. Then Paul sticks his spoon in the bucket, pulls out an enormous scoop of ice cream and said, "We're finishing it. We are NOT girls, we are MEN!" And thus, we pressed on. Bite by bite, we continued to watch the ice cream disappear.

As we reached the bottom, my will to keep eating faded. Everything within my being ordered me to stop eating. "No more! Stop this madness!" my inner voice told me. "It's not worth it."
Meanwhile, Ben peers inside the bucket and said, "Okay guys; two more scoops per person and we're there. Let's do this!" He begins and forces two more spoonfuls of ice cream down and shoves the rest at Nate. Nate follows suit and passes to Brandon (Paul is digging away at a huge bowlful of cookies and cream, partially melted and delicious-looking). And then it comes down to the fifth and final guy: me. Everything hung in the balance. Our goal rested on me, easily the smallest member of our crew. There inside sits a hunk of the former gallon-sized brick of ice cream, softened and rapidly melting. It's two moderate spoonfuls or one mammoth scoop.

The chanting begins. They chant my name and they get louder and louder. Then Ben leads the guys in a thunderous drumroll on the table. I throw all sense of reason out the figurative window, scoop up the remaining cookies and cream, stare at it for a second, and then shove it down to joyous cheers of my friends. Brandon drinks up the meltage and then slams the bucket on the table.
We did it. We each ate over a pint and a half of ice cream in one sitting and none of us managed to throw up. After basking in the glory of our victory over the dessert, I pulled out my camera, we grabbed the nearest Jim Borkoel, and took some commemorative pictures to celebrate (and verify) our claims of vanquishing a gallon of ice cream together. Below is the photographic evidence.





























From left to right: Brandon, the Major General Music, Nate, Paul, & Ben, five mighty Bible Studs!

No, we're not lying. Ben holds the empty bucket. The ice cream was consumed in its entirety.

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johnateson