Food, Glorious Food

Unless you’re a five-year-old kid or a parent of a five-year-old kid, you probably haven’t seen “Ice Age 2: The Meltdown.” In fact, you might even be asking, “Ice Age, what?”

Well, no worries, I watched it for you. It was really no trouble. Someone had to do it and I was happy to do it. (I really was!)

Well, as the title implies, the movie opens with the ice age coming to end, and thus, everything is melting. It doesn’t take long before the animals realize that it’s a matter of time that their valley will become flooded. They need to get out quick, but where to? With the terrain changing rapidly, a birds’ eye view is necessary. Thankfully for everyone, a vulture arrives more than willing to help.

Sure enough, later on, our heroes find themselves separate in a desperate situation, and (surprise, surprise) the vultures are there waiting. As our heroes start to make their way through, the sloth (played by John Leguizamo) ponders in his adorable lisp, “I wonder what they’re thinking?”

Then this happens:


It was by far my favorite moment in the movie, and it seems every time I return from a long run with my group on Sundays, I become submerged into the vultures’ song. (And I don’t just hear the song, maaan. I am the song.)

While it’s necessary to eat as we run, there’s absolutely nothing better than knowing at the end of it, there is a table overflowing with treats just for me. See, everything tastes especially good after you run. Oranges are more vibrant. Watermelon is sweeter, and on those hot days, it’s nothing short of heavenly. There’s also pretzels, candy, and bagels. The entire table is covered in foods loaded with sugar and salt, because that’s what our bodies need after a run. (Kids, can you say carbs?)

During those last hundred feet, I already have my eye on that wooden picnic table. When we arrive, Coach Mike clocks us in, asks if we had a good run, and a little “uh-huh” comes out of my mouth as I move away from the group and beeline it to the table.

Since there always a crowd surrounding the table (given that I’m one of the last groups to return), I have to jerk above, around and below the various limbs blocking my view. While everything is delicious, there really is only one thing I want in particular and sometimes I have circle the table to find it. The bowls are colorful, but opaque, so it can take a couple attempts, a couple “bowl checks” if you will, and then, wait, could that, yeah, there it is… sweet, delicious peanut butter jelly sandwiches! And it’s cut into quarters, just like Mom use to make.

As I peer down into the bowl, my eyes are wide with all the options before me. I start to hum “Food, Glorious Fooooood. We’re anxious to try it,” and dive right in. I’m not even polite about it. Hell, I’m not even sure I’m an adult anymore. I’m feel greedy and possibly even giddy. Within two quick snatches, I step away from the purple bowl with two squares in my hands.

Then I make my way slowly towards the tree off to one side of the table, eating one of the squares as I go. The leaves shimmy a little in the morning breeze and welcome me to enter its shade. Once I make my way through the first square, I take the remaining piece, hold it with both hands, and start to sway gently from side to side. I’m definitely not an adult anymore. PB&J hasn’t been this good since the first grade.