Jimi Tsunami aka The Big Kahuna

Summer. The Jersey Shore. Spare me the Guidos 'n' Speedos, there is a plethora (si el Guapo, a plethora) of great food spots and great Watering Holes. I'm not much for strutting my stuff on the beach...I tend to find sand in crevices I never previously knew existed. So I spent my evening taking on a "Belmar Behemoth" at local taco joint Surf Taco. Surf Taco is made famous by its beach locations and battered cod (not domestic abuse) fish tacos, and I love me a fish taco (both kinds). They feature a food challenge known as the "Tsunami Burrito". Its about 30 inches long (thats what she said) and covered with Guac, Sour Cream, and Pico de Gallo. Pico De GA-YO! To win the Tsunami challenge you have to finish the thing in 15 mins or less and you get your picture on the wall. Oh the things I do for local recognition...
Of course I was 'encouraged' by my girlfriend/manager/muse, who paid for it and said I would have to pay her back if I didn't finish in the time because "she doesn't date losers". When they delivered the log of burrito to my table I was expecting a vote of confidence from the waitress, who instead callously said "Clock Starts Now". I was awaiting a Billy Madisonesque follow up of "I know you'ze kids like 'em sloppy!"
After a quick swig of Dr. Pepper, I dig in. slicing and eating like a normal human being. I get some quick cheers from a group of 20 somethings drinking beer at the table across. Thanks for the quick Man vs. food moment. I think I am going at a decent pace when "future lunch lady"...lets call her Ethel...comes back and barks "ten minutes". Sounds like i'm in detention--And not the good naughty kind you can find on the internet. I start sawing off larger chunks, shoveling it down as the rice and beans fall to the wayside like shell casings from a 50-cal machine gun (ok, maybe a little less dramatic than that). I just start my meat sweats when Ethel passes by with another order and gurgles "5" at me. I start chowing my last few bits and cleaning up the shrapnel with the chips. I check my phone and see 2 minutes to spare as I finish my plate and lean back, beaming with victory. Ethel comes back and snaps my photo, a 3"x3" badge of honor to be pinned among the other champions of chomp. Although my only remnant of this Tsunami my be a wave of toilet water tomorrow morning, in the eyes of my audience that day I was the Big Kahuna for a night.