I showed up hungry, which is really the only way to approach an all-you-can-eat situation, but I underestimated just how dangerous this Missouri Italian buffet would be for my self-control and the button on my jeans.
The line moved fast, the smell of garlic and simmering tomato sauce hit me the second I grabbed a plate, and then I stood there staring at tray after tray of pasta and meatballs and saucy chicken parmesan and bread that was practically begging to be dipped in something.
I went back for seconds like a predictable rookie, then thirds like someone who had clearly learned nothing, and by the time I got to the cannoli station I had accepted that this was simply who I am now…