A Trip to the Buffet

So there I was, writing about buffets.

And I don't mean writing one or two things about buffets. I had an assignment that kept me writing for an entire day about limitless quantities of all kinds of food: Sushi. Barbeque. Beef. Pork. Chicken. International dishes that I couldn't pronounce. Lobster. I'm sure you get the idea. I mean, what's more Vegas than a buffet? Apparently, my editor thought the same thing.

"What would you think about going to a buffet?" I asked my husband.

"I thought you didn't like buffets," he said.

"I'm reformed," I said. "And I have a player's club card. We can get a discount."

Soon we were standing in line at the Red Rock Feast Buffet. Just beyond the cashier, yards and yards of food awaited us.

When our waiter seated us, he said, "Remember you're in the section next to the Asian food. Otherwise, you'll get lost and won't find your table." My husband, son, and I dutifully took note of the big sign that said "Asian," then we set off to explore the vast offerings of the Feast.

My 13-year-old son was so overwhelmed with the food choices that he brought back a plate of salad. Salad. Oh my God, I thought, he's been traumatized.

I was delighted to find the sushi, conveniently located close enough to our table that I was never in danger of getting lost.

My husband brought back everything barbequed and fried that he could find. And my son recovered from the shock of so much food that he set his salad aside and bravely tried new foods.  

When we rolled out of the buffet, we were certain we'd never want to eat again.

As we waddled to the car, I had to stop to take pictures of the pretty waterfall at the front of the hotel. Since I'm a Las Vegas native, I'm rarely impressed with a hotel casino, but I do think the Red Rock is one of the prettiest in town. Had we not pounced on our buffet plates like ravenous beasts, I might have a buffet picture to share with you. Instead, you get to see the waterfall.