Everything I’ve learned about life, I learned at Herzl Camp
July 15, 2010 by Herzl Camp Admin, under What I Learned from Camp.
By Max and Zach Puchtel
Part 6 – In the Old Chadar/The Event (2 of 2)
…so there we were. Max and I, now properly seated next to the kitchen in anticipation of this occasion that had recently been labeled the Event. (108. Max likes to make spectacles of things.) Being Shabbat afternoon, the Old Chadar was filled with a buzz that resembled a beehive, making the temperature rise to where the walls were beginning to sweat. To combat the heat, 3 ceiling fans were turned on, and the lights were turned off. (109. This did not help) We were lucky enough to have one of the padded seats, which meant that our tuchuses (110. tuchim?) would not be numb by the end of dinner. A girls cabin was complaining that their table was gone (111. It was destroyed in the 2000 Ozo play by Michael Schachtman’s back), and so they were forced to sit at a splintered, sagging table instead. (112. This paints an accurate picture of pre-renovated camp, thank you donors!!).
Around our table, which had been carefully handpicked for the Event, were two other seasoned competitors: Joey the Vacuum Jaffe, whose mother, Auntie Roe, we were all sure to see afterwards, (113. Both for cookies and for internal bleeding) and Jared the Squirrel Steyaert, who despite his minimal stature (114. 6’2” in this group is minimal) was a force to be reckoned with. The requirement for the remaining 12 seats was simple; while sitting down, I would form a “T” by stretching my arms straight out to both sides. If, when seated, your head fit below my arms, you were in. (115.Amy Rivkin, Tracy Altman, Zach Freeman, Michael Schachtman, Jenny Chaitkin (116. When she became a Puchtel, she grew 2 inches…), Macaroni Kornblum…STAND UP!! Love you guys…) In actuality, Miles, my camper who took a broom to final banquet (117. True story) was a staple under my left arm. The skill with which this boy could dump and run was unparalleled in camp history. He was small enough to duck in and around any line that had formed near the kitchen, but more importantly was cute enough to melt Brandon’s heart into filing up his bucket.
We were set; big eaters, small runners, elbow room, honey, water, loose belts and glory ahead. It felt like the Mariokart stoplight when the Aleph sign was raised to the rusty hooks, signifying the commencement of ultimate indulgence. Miles shot out of a cannon and delivered the first batch of chicken nuggets before others were out of their seats, “DUMP AND RUN!!” being the unified chant to our smaller companions. (Note: The nuggets we were using in our contest were not your Wendy’s nicely formed nuggets. These things were monstrosities. Some looked like they actually had a baby chicken inside them, and others had 3 nuggets attached … which would count as only 1 nugget). A mountain of chicken was now the centerpiece of our Chadar table. (118. which honestly, is not a fancy dining table, thank you Marty Wasserman). Now, consumption…
Despite their hideous form, the first 20 went down easy. Passerbys became more frequent, as did their questions; “How’s it going?”, “How many does Jaffe have?”, “Are you going to beat your brother?” to which I replied, “Awesome, not as many as me, and of course.” 30…35…40…little bit of honey…five at a time…steady big fella…little bit of water…45…the table next to us exploded with excitement, “Gelperin has 60!!” Oh no he doesn’t!! I threw on my blinders and the numbers began to rise: 45… unfazed… 50… still feeling good…55…what’s that stomach? You’re getting full? Rule #76, Play like a champion, no excuses!…60…there’s this pain developing in my abdominal region… 65…and then came Steve Mintz strolling in with a childish grin on his face. We knew what it meant – he loved The Event but was forced to be the responsible one that made sure the kids actually ate. (119. If not for Steve, campers would spend their entire lunch watching us eat and cheering, forgetting that they themselves needed nourishment.) “Guys, I have to call it.” Like Apollo Creed in Rocky III, I begged Steve to not throw in the towel, and to let us go on. “OK,” he said, “You have 10 minutes, make it good.”
Re-energized with RUACH (120. RUACH!!), I looked to my right once more, Aaron’s face had gone purple and he was officially knocked out at 66…Jaffe was nearing 70 and slowing, and Steyaert fought a brave fight but surrendered at 67, claiming his inner child could take no more. Max and I knew that this was a two man race. 70…are we really doing this?…75…must…beat…brother…80…Max looks up from his plate, in what seemed like slow motion now due to the over-consumption. The world was blurred and slow. “Truce?” he muttered, knowing good and well that it would not be the case. Starting to see colors (121. and Rosemary), I knew the end was near one way or the other.
The last dump and run was made, as the kitchen had been eaten clean. There were 7 left. There would be one winner and one loser. I looked at Max, he looked at me. We were both “winners” at this point, but we knew that one Puchtel had to prevail in this gluttonous display. We each took 1, dipped it in honey, and down. 81…
…Birkat was ready to begin, and Mickey Greenberg was not too pleased. No matter, destiny was on our side. As I dipped number 82 in the plastic honey cup, Max experienced what many experts would describe as “an explosion”. With iron jaws he was able to cut the flow, containing most of the nugget mess to his side of the table…
…that was it, all I had to do was eat one more! I gladly took down 3 celebratory nuggets, and the event was mine!! (122. There is no prize for eating the most chicken nuggets, only bragging rights for life).
We left after Birkat, and retired to our cabins for minucha. (123. No dinner was eaten.) (124. Do not attempt this ever, we are trained professionls).