Impressions From a Hotel Buffet

The elevator dings
I walk out the doors only find myself somehow part of a line of people cueing up in front of the doors of the dining hall.
The comparison is gobsmacking, outside the sun is high and shining bright, inside, the reflective glow of white flesh is equally blinding. Through the glass I can see them, four servers standing side by side, arms behind their backs. One nervously glances at his watch while his fellow soldiers form the ranks and prepare for battle. And suddenly, before I can grasp the situation, the clock strikes 19, the doors open, the hordes of hell flow in.
The current pulls me from station to station, the choice is overwhelming: bowls of colourful vegetables and heaps of golden fried chips, fish and onion rings enough to fill any hungry stomach. The ants flock from table to buffet and back and forth, tirelessly working towards yet another overstuffing and overstretching of the stomach walls, all in the name of a good night and getting your money’s worth while on holiday.