We caught glimpses of it as we shuffled into the auditorium. Lasers of gold shot through the serving line procession and snatched our attention, like a flash of bare flesh, or a dollar in the dirt. Managers, directors, and VPs stood at a serving table up front, smiling threats and doling out burgers and potato salad. It was there that the hundred or so of us here for the safety celebration lunch got a full view of the obscenity. Alone on a table it sat, in unabashed glory - a slow flowing, golden glowing fountain of nacho cheese. The shimmering triple-tiered spectacle undulated like a stripper at the stage pole. It stood shameless and naked, an icon of our age, a monument to excess, gluttony, and poor taste. I filled my plate and retreated to a rear table where some friends were laughing and eating.

Ed winked as I sat and turned to the guy seated next to him.

“Hey, RD, five bucks if you do a header in the cheese fountain.”

I checked Randy Dan for his response. His face contorted as he tried to suppress a laugh, but he managed to avoid spraying out a mouthful of burger with his muffled reply.

“What?”

“A header - full coverage from the neck up. Who’s with me?” Frank reached into his wallet and slapped a five on the table.

“I’m in for twenty”, I said, caught up in the moment.

“Another twenty here.” Ken matched my offer.

In a few seconds, one hundred and five dollars lay on the table. RD shook his head in disbelief, but looked from the cash and to the fountain and back. He was feeling the pressure.