Girl eats pie fast; loses contest

Lindsay Sandham

“Playing with Pies” sounds like a pie-eating contest I can win, so I

sign up at the Orange County Fair. All I have to do is a eat a big

slab of pie really fast. That’s how I eat pie at Coco’s, so it should

be no problem.

I wear a skirt with an expandable waistband. I tie up my hair in a

ponytail. I skip lunch.

But as I wait for the event to begin, I am nervous. Like the

barf-o-rama scene in the movie “Stand By Me,” I’m afraid someone will

vomit and it will be contagious. Thinking about this makes me a

little queasy.

I call my older sister Ally, who lives in Denver, because I

remember that her claim to fame in high school was being able to

out-eat just about anyone. She actually won a pie-eating contest, so

I am hopeful she can give me some last-minute advice.

“Don’t let the pressure get to you,” she tells me, with authority.

“Just eat like you’re at home.”

Her advice helps. I am further reassured by memories of the

countless times I’ve crumbled up Oreo cookies in a bowl, doused them

with milk and then eaten them as if they were cereal. For me,

dessert is at least three courses. It occurs to me I’ve been training

for this contest my entire life.

It’s in my favor that these are chocolate pies -- flaky-crusted

and filled with chocolate cream, covered in whipped cream and

chocolate shavings. I can eat with the best of them, and I can eat

chocolate better than most of them. I consider chocolate to be at the

top of the food pyramid, the most important meal of the day.

According to the experts, it’s best to lead up to a pie-eating

contest by consuming a lot of junk food. In fact, the second-place

winner in the 5-and-under category finished off a wad of blue cotton

candy just moments before the pie-eating contest.

When they finally call the event for my age group, I look around

to find some pretty stiff competition.

There are a few older gentlemen with telltale round bellies, but I

don’t let it scare me.

It’s embarrassment enough to be a part of a group of mature adults

on stage, lined up, ready to stuff our faces full of pie using

fingers for utensils.

But then, the judges inform us that as an added challenge, our age

group must position party hats over our noses so that they look like

birds’ beaks, and then we must walk five or six steps like a chicken,

before addressing our pie.

The whistle blows, we all do the chicken dance up to our places

and off we go.

Seconds later, the announcer tells us we can all stop -- they have

their three winners.

Although I just about cleaned my plate, I was out-eaten by the

three champions. However, I think, had they had a fourth-place prize,

I would have had it in the bag.