I was a freshman in high school when I first heard about the Ramma Lamma Ding Dong. My older brother was in his first year at Iowa State and had already been challenged.

Ten scoops of ice cream, two brownies, two toppings, bananas and a cherry on top — all measuring in at over 5,000 calories.

Those brave enough to attempt it and those man enough to eat it will have their name forever preserved on a plaque which hangs in the entryway into Ruttles ’50’s Grill.

My brother was brave enough, but not man enough. His first attempt was a distant four scoops and one brownie away.

A few years came and went after his attempt and my manliness developed fully. I was now a junior and a lineman on the varsity football squad. (Technically I was a tight end, but we never passed.)

It was time — time to become a man.

A friend and I were in Ames for a Cyclone game and just so happened to skip lunch, hence leaving room in our stomachs for 5,000 calories of ice cream.

I made my brother take us, that way I could rub it in his face when I proved I was more of a man than he was.

As we entered the restaurant, we picked out two spots on the plaque where we thought our names would like nice. We also couldn’t help but notice the large number of female names on the plaque, which proved motivational in itself.

We ordered two Ramma Lamma Ding Dongs with pride — backs up straight and elbows off the table.

Our waitress soon returned with what appeared to be one of those giant glass salad bowls completely filled with ice cream.

“I’m sorry, you must have misunderstood me,” I told her. “We wanted the Ding Dongs in separate bowls.”

“Um, this isn’t two Ding Dongs, the other one is on its way,” she replied.

OK, now that I looked like the biggest ass on the face of the earth, I had no choice but to redeem my reputation.

But being my cocky self, I offered the first Ding Dong to my friend, adding that I would get the second one and still finish before him.

When the waitress returned with my Ding Dong, I must admit, I was a bit overwhelmed. It was the most ice cream I had ever seen and I was about to eat every last scoop.

But there was no fear — I had a plan. I would eat the brownies and bananas first, and wash it all down with the ice cream.

Brownie number one — cakewalk. Brownie number two — ugh. OK, thank God the brownies were done.

Banana slice number one — no problemo. Banana slices two through 30 — ugh. But, they were out of the way and as far as I was concerned I had already put down the gist of the Ding Dong.

But there was a certain quality to the ice cream which the brownies and bananas did not possess that I seemed to have forgotten about — a certain level of coldness.

I started digging into the ice cream and my body slowly slipped into a hypothermic state. Slowly, I could feel my stomach begin to reject the ice cream.

There was only one thing I could do. Ignore my stomach and force the ice cream down my throat.

I looked around at the women at my table, swallowed my pride, picked the bowl up to my mouth and poured the ice cream down my throat.

Such a beautiful sight it was. Everyone around me began chanting my name as if I was Oger on “Revenge of the Nerds.”

And just as the bowl was about to fall out of my trembling hands, it was empty. Done. Finished.

“Today … day … day, I … I … I … am the happiest man … man … man … on the face of the Earth … Earth … Earth,” I proclaimed.

Meanwhile, my friend was nearing the finish line, with one brownie to go. We cheered him on and somehow he was able to finish it.

Our waitress returned and asked us to fill out a card with our name and hometown for the plaque. My friend began to write his name but could not finish.

Within seconds, he was in the Ruttles bathroom, praying to the porcelain gods.

He was ashamed and asked for his name not to be put on the plaque. But it was, right below “Corey Moss — Urbandale.”

A year later I returned to Ruttles with a group of about a dozen guys. My name on the plaque wasn’t enough to impress them and they challenged me to do it again.

I accepted and made a proposition if I could eat all of it in less than 15 minutes, they would have to buy the $9 sundae.

Another friend attempted and miserably failed. As for me, it took only 14 minutes to conquer my second Ding Dong, a store record according to the manager at the time.

When spring came that year, my brother returned to Ruttles. He was to graduate the next day and had one last chance to prove he was a man.

My brother came to ISU a boy. But when he crossed the stage that Saturday afternoon, he was leaving a man.

When he showed me his diploma case later that night I was surprised to see there was no degree. Instead, he had replaced it with the official Ramma Lamma Ding Dong certificate of completion.

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Corey Moss is a junior in journalism and mass communication from Urbandale.