At the age of nineteen, I embarked as an uncultured ignoramus on my first of many travels abroad, and while in Thailand I found myself dining with a friend at a gourmet all-you-can-eat buffet that included filet mignon, top-shelf sushi, and other such delicacies that ordinarily would have far exceeded my college-student budget. Thailand's cheap cost of living, however, allowed an hourly wage earning teenage grunt like myself to indulge in such a feast, for only a fraction of what it would cost back home.
During that phase of my life I essentially ate like a carnivore, and a frugal one at that, so throughout the meal I focused on stuffing my face primarily with filet mignon. Uninterested in trying to enjoy a well balanced meal with a variety of foods that complimented each other, I simply aimed to maximize my meal's cost per bite, and to cram into my belly as many food-dollars as I could. After two or three rounds I'd had my fill, at which point I picked up my unused lap napkin from the table, wiped my chops, then crumpled the napkin into a haphazard mound on the table, like a dilapidated shrine to my blatant lack of culture and etiquette.
My friend, still chewing at a leisurely pace, raised his eyes to meet mine and then glanced at my empty plate, my crumpled napkin, and my idle hands.