It's that sudden desire to eat a turkey leg as big as your face.
(Vegetarians, you have been forewarned, lol!)
Come on, I know you know what I'm talking about! I know you've felt it too. It's especially dangerous in Frontierland, where there's that cute little cart, and the smell wafting out of it. But then you never know when, without warning, you may find yourself heading for the nearest Giant Turkey Leg vendor.
The Turkey Leg fever seized me one afternoon at Hollywood Studios. I had just come out of the Beauty and the Beast show and was in search of some lunch to munch.
(As a side note: I LOVE this show!)
I couldn't resist one more pic of those pink frilly gowns!!
Anywho, the counter service Fairfax Fare just across the street from the theatre caught my eye,and I decided to jump in line and sample one of their offerings...
Did you know they sell a hot dog topped with macaroni and cheese and truffle oil here??
As another side note, this is a very slow-moving line. SO you finally get to the front of the line, feeling a little frustrated at the wait, and then more frustrated when you order the turkey leg and the cash register shows that you owe $9.79. For one turkey leg. Seriously.
Still grumbling, you get your receipt. And then the cashier hands you the turkey leg. And all complaints vanish. In fact, all thoughts in general vanish, and you just stare at the piece of turkey in your hand in amazement.
This thing. is. HUGE. And when I say huge I mean it is mammoth. And when I say mammoth I mean it looks like it could be a MAMMOTH leg instead of a turkey leg!!
lol, ok, that's taking it a bit too far. But look, it really *is* as big as your head!!
And it looks so delicious too. Somewhere, a choir of carnivorous, heavenly angels is singing. It's warm too, you can feel the heat in your hand through the wax paper, and you start to get hungry (as if you weren't already before).
It's such a thing of strange, meaty beauty that at first you just lick it like a lollipop. But then you find a place to attack and start to eat!
Did I sit there in my pretty white skirt and highly-impractical-but-entirely-fabulous red gingham espadrilles (I know, crazy for the parks, but I woke up that morning and just HAD to wear them!) eating this haunch of turkey like a caveman?
Why yes. Yes I did.
Once you take that first bite, you have to attack it like a ravenous wolf, because to properly eat a turkey leg of this size you have to make sure you're saying, "ARRgghhh, nom nom nom..."
It is flavorful and delicious and for 10 minutes or so you chomp merrily away.
But then a disastrous thought occurs to you. In your turkey leg coma, you wonder with a helpless fascination what a huge, fat turkey this thing must have come from, because the amount of meat left seems to have barely diminished even though you've been eating it and eating it...
I know, I know, bad BAD thing to think!! You push the thought resolutely away, but now another horrible realization dawns on you: you're starting to get full.
With a reckless determination, you continue to chew, slower and slower with smaller and smaller bites. By now the meat is getting cold and you are certainly not hungry any more, but you know if you stop you won't be able to start again.
A few more bites, and it's all over.
It's a pity, because there's still meat left and you wish you could eat it, you paid so much for it, but you know that, really, it just wouldn't be worth the pain.
With a mixture of disgust, pride, and regret, you give the fowl one last glance, then toss it in the well-themed trash can near by.
Now you know why I have titled this post "The Saga of the Turkey Leg." Because eating a turkey leg is indeed a saga, an epic journey from start to finish.
I walked away down Sunset Boulevard, and a thought occurred to me: was it really worth the $10 and everything?
The answer comes: Just Yes.