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  • So you get a short stack of pancakes with a four egg omelette?
    That's right honey.
    You not hungry?
    No, I mean yes I am but I...nothing. That sounds great. I'll have the Popeye omelette (steamed spinach, cheddar cheese, bacon, red onion, topped with sour cream) and the pancakes.
    You got it. The waitress smiled and disappeared off to the kitchen.
    Mate, you'll never make it through all that.
    What are you saying?
    I'm saying you are an English lightweight taking on a heavyweight American breakfast.
    You're going to lose.
    No I'm not.
    Yes. You are.
    Bet you $10 I clear the plate.
    You're on.
    We shook hands. I was hungry, I was confident. Until I peered over at the swing door that led into the kitchen. Every time it opened that confidence evaporated as a constant stream of waiters and waitresses squeezed past each other, their arms weighed down by huge plates laden with the most enormous portions of food that I have ever seen.
    The food looked good. It looked amazing actually. But each plate had enough on it to feed a family for four.
    He turned and saw what I saw.
    You want to give me that money now?
    Shut up. I'll put that food away and have the same for lunch. We both laughed at the absurdity of that thought.
    Okay, here we go hon.
    The waitress put the plate down infront of me.
    Andy had just taken a huge swig of coffee that now shot out of his mouth as he doubled up laughing.
    I ignored him and surveyed the task in hand. The plate was heavy, white, ceramic and huge, at least 14inches across. The mountain of steaming pancakes nestled up against a bulging omelette, the size of a handbag, sour cream oozing from inside of it, waiting to be sliced open and spill out everywhere.
    I looked up as he dabbed coffee from the table top, sighed, reached into my pocket and took out $10.
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