A letter to Dave Covalt, owner of Izzy's

Dave Covalt

Owner

Izzy’s

PO Box 628

Gresham, OR, 97030

Dear Mr. Covalt:

I am writing to inform you about a tragic event that took place in your Gresham restaurant on the evening of April fifteenth.

After nearly three thousand miles and over a week in the car, I found myself standing travel-worn on the threshold of Izzy’s. Having eaten no more than convience store snacks for three states, the prospects of an all you can eat buffet for less than ten dollars had me and my traveling partner (my cousin) giddy. Between the two of us we had twenty-two dollars and a handful of pocket lint, just the perfect amount for two classic buffets’.

After being seated, we eagerly attacked the delectable looking buffet line, piling four trips worth of food, on a single plate. We picked up our drinks, retired to our table and ravenously devoured every scrap of our tasty horde with no more than an occasional grunt or belch for communication.

The food was excellent. We found the delicate balance of your pizza’s doughy center and crisp bottom, so appealing that we consumed no less than our combined body weight in the hour of our stay. We would have eaten more but found ourselves agreeing (with a series of grunts and nod’s) that we simply had to sample each and every one of the savory deserts situated in constant sight of our table. To our delight, desert was nearly as good as the pizza.

Full to the level of immanent explosion, we tossed our napkins on our plates and undid the top buttons of newly tightened pants. It was about this time that our aged and obviously veteran server swaggered over with the check and a salty good night. We quickly drained our drinks and examined the bill.

Imagine our delight when we discovered that we were exactly seventy-five cents short.

We looked from the bill to our drinks in utter perplex ion. There, just above the total line was a rather unsightly charge of three dollars and fifty-eight cents, with the word’s “two drinks” for company. Utter panic ensued. Why had nobody informed us that unlike every other buffet on the planet, drinks were not included? Graciously, I excused myself from the table and marched out of the restaurant and into the parking lot where I had left the Cadillac Escalade we called home for the last week.

I had not been so embarrassed since I took Amanda Sorensen on a date to the Italian cottage in college. That was the night that Amanda discovered a taste for Scallops and copious amounts of good wine, while my wallet had taste enough for only spaghetti and ice water.

Like a mad man, I burrowed my way through the Escalade in search of discarded drive through change and spare pennies. After no less than twelve hours, I climbed out of the vehicle and plopped down in one of the four seats I had removed and counted a handful of pennies and a few odd nickels. I had uncovered exactly seventy-six cents, enough to cover the bill and leave a meager tip.

Like the cock of the walk, I strutted back to my table and slid into the booth, opposite my irritated cousin. He had spent the duration of my search feigning utter fascination with the now gelatinous pile of tapioca on the plate before him. My smile informed him of the success of the mission, a success celebrated with another round of fruit punch. After a rousing fit of slimming yet concealed belches, we left.

We tied the seats to the roof of the Escalade and made the final leg of our journey in stuffed silence. It was in this silence that I realized just how sneaky it was for Izzy’s to place the self-serve soda fountain in the midst of the buffet line, where unwary patrons would be easily duped into a costly beverage. In hindsight, I see this as no more than a slightly unscrupulous tactic but at the time, it was a crime of no less than high treason and demanded the offenders spend the remainder of their lives in a bleak and privy less Irish prison.

I do understand your desire to keep your price point beneath the magical ten dollar mark and I applaud your obviously superior product, but for the love of David Hasselhoff…. Inform your patrons that drinks are extra prior to the arrival of the bill.

Sincerely,

Ryan Curtis

Buffet Connoisseur