A gang of courageous eaters learn just how hungry they really are.
I went to the second annual Glizzy Gobble last Sunday and had a fantastic time.
It was an outdoor party. The mood was jovial and attendees were eager to socialize. I met two separate guys named Joey.
Contest entry was $5 a head, but I scored a hot dog for free. Naturally, I had it with mustard and relish. Ketchup doesn’t belong on hot dogs, if we’re being frank.
There were many strangers, but some of my dogs were there with me. My buddy Carter from Photo Collective was there to compete, Maxwell from Skate Club was hosting the event, and my good friend Ben, like me, was there to ogle. Together, we learned with increasing horror how many other dudes there were named Ben.
The second Joey came to challenge for the title. He had endured a grueling preparation regime: he fasted for 18 hours, went for a run that morning and drank water throughout to keep his stomach expanded. He said he had shit three times that day. I never knew how competitive eaters prepared themselves for large quantities of food, so Joey provided some insight into how the sausage was made.
I saw some classmates and acquaintances from elsewhere, including a competitor I recognized from my econometrics class. He told me in class the next day that Joey was googling ways to prepare for eating contests the night before.
Using a Canon 5D on loan from PhoCo, this was one of my first times shooting with an on-camera flash. The step up was long overdue. I never minded how images looked on my Canon SL3, but the pop-up flash was pretty buns. I was learning and experimenting on the fly.
The turnout was impressive. There were about a dozen people who came ready to eat and a larger crowd had come to watch. Someone played Eye of the Tiger on a Bluetooth speaker. The atmosphere was quite electric.
The competition began, and with that, the longest five minutes of my life.
While shooting, I had little consideration for who I was blocking or touching. I only knew I needed to get the angles that the handful of other photographers there were not getting. I had to get close- shots from a respectful distance were not going to cut the mustard.
Every battle royale needs a villain. Two contestants, including the one woman in competition, made a point of eating a single hot dog, and savoring it slowly.
There were numerous strategies at play. Some ate their dogs the traditional way, while others separated frank and bun. Truth be told, I wasn’t really focusing on people’s form, but I know the hot dog scraps on people’s plates post-carnage were in all sorts of shapes.
Incredibly, some eaters were applying condiments to their weenies ahead of the start. A few of them were even using relish! I’m no pro eater, but that seems like a waste of valuable stomach space. Too much volume.
Nobody questioned me pointing my huge lens in their faces. I guess the glizzy gladiators had more pressing concerns than grilling me on why I was capturing their moment of extreme vulnerability.
Eventually, we had a weiner: Ben Connolly, the reigning champ. Tall and broad, he indeed had the biggest back of any competitor. He put away six shaboingboings in an olympian effort, a decrease from last year’s total of seven. Joey Chestnut’s record is 83 in 10 minutes, so if six is a prize winning number here, I now have greater admiration for the pro eater’s craft.
His prize was $50 cash and a commemorative T-shirt, sized large but still tight on him. Figures.
Editing the photos was quite fun. I had lots of contrast to play around with, and I relished the opportunity to work with visceral, moist, disgusting textures.
In suburban Washington, at a school known for attracting future politicians and budding bureaucrats, it’s easy to assume its students fit a narrow, and boring, stereotype. But occurrences like these show just how exciting people here can be.
Ben Ackman's Photography Website 