On my last trip to WDW in June, my buddy Hackett and I went to Magic Kingdom with some CM friends for evening EMHs (no, we weren’t staying at a resort hotel). I think MK was open until 1AM that evening, so we didn’t even get there until 5PM or so. After two hours of commando touring and behind-the-scenes rampaging, we’d worked up quite an appetite.
As I mentioned in my Stormalong Bay post, Hackett is nearly destitute, and consequently literally didn’t have a dime for food. Watching Hackett’s sad, skinny face, I knew that he needed to feel like he could survive in this cold, hard world all on his own, without any help from me or our CM friends. Hackett needed a boost, both physically and psychologically. He needed to get food, on his own, and it had to be good food, too.
“Hackett,” I said, “Just give some guy a BJ for $15. Then you’ll get a meal AND $15! HAHAHAHA!!!”
I’m an awesome friend.
“Fuck off, Kinsey, I’m hungry,” replied a scowling Hackett. “Gimme some money.”
“No way, you turd.”
“Kinsey, give me some goddamned money! I’ve got hypoglycemia and I need to eat or I’ll pass out!”
“NO!” I shouted. Birds scattered. Mothers scowled. Hackett almost cried.
But then he looked up and saw where we were, and it was like a ray of light shined on him and the angels started singing into his skinny little ears. A look of pure bliss spread across his face as he stared at the rickety sign: Pecos Bills. The mecca of Magic Kingdom dining for cheapskates like me and Hackett. Home of the most excellent TOPPINGS BAR!!! Free sauteed mushrooms, grilled onions, cheese sauce, shredded cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, salsa, BBQ sauce…. Hell yeah.
Hackett looked at me and grinned. I grinned back. We ran inside, knowing soon our bellies would be full.
Now, look, I’m not a total asshole. I fully intended to buy Hackett some food to supplement his Toppings Bar excursion. I mean, you really do need a “base” for your toppings. You can’t just load that shit onto a plate like a hobo taco salad. Well, I mean you can, but seriously, where’s the starch? You need a starch group in your meal or else you’ll never really feel satiated.
“Hackett,” I said, “You want me to get you some fries?”
“Fuck off, Kinsey,” he replied, his eyes locked on something in the distance. “I got this one.”
“You’re a strange dude,” I said, shaking my head as I walked up to the register. I ordered some fries for $2.50, a cup of water (free), and a plate “to dump my fries on”, as I told the lady at the counter.
$2.66 poorer, I scattered the fries over the plate and went to the Toppings Bar to load up on sweet, sweet toppings. On go the mushrooms, on go the onions, then the BBQ sauce, then the shredded cheese, and finally (this is the smart bit), I pour a bit of melted cheese over the top to melt the higher-quality shredded cheese underneath. And bravo, a meal fit for a king. A really poor, cheap king. Honestly, it was so filling that I could only finish half of mine. I gave the other half to my CM friend, which he readily accepted, because all CMs are poor.
When I finally lifted my face from my plate, I realized I hadn’t even looked at what Hackett had concocted for himself. And what I saw was simply brilliant: he had taken the little bags of crackers they put out for chili and clam chowder, and used those as the base for his toppings!
“Hackett, you’re such a badass. I can’t believe I never thought of that! Now I feel dumb for spending $2.66 on fries.”
“I may be poor, Kinsey, but I’m a helluva a lot smarter and craftier than you are,” said Hackett with a steely gaze. “Or at least that’s what your mom says when I’m banging her.”
The rest of the table exploded in laughter. I gave Hackett a golf clap and he smiled, stomach full, and full of himself.
Hackett: The Navy Seal of hobo WDW dining.