This is the buffet at the Rio that was recommended to Pete by local *IS* agents. We pay the computer $22.99 apiece, then wait like cattle to be led to the trough. It’s the biggest feeding frenzy I’ve ever seen, with something like 1200 items, all gourmet. Ann and I spend 10 minutes surveying everything before we start.

Everybody comes to the table with completely different plates. Someone (Chris maybe?) has a pile of choice sausages, duck, and veal. Anne Marie makes a mountain of sushi, crab legs, and other fresh seafood. I go for glistening carrots & broccoli, baked salmon, shrimp pesto penne, and eggplant parmesan.

There’s something vaguely disturbing about being surrounded by food in such plentitude. Maybe it violates some basic biological wiring for food scarcity. The thought of all the leftovers going into the trash at the end of the night is also unsettling.

When we’re all coming back from Dessert Island, Pete suggests the possibility of gourmet food sculpture. One could create art from caviar, or even create a gelatto banana split with Polska Kielbasa instead of bananas. Somehow this seems like a fitting expression of my strange discomfort, but I’m not bold enough to act on it.