What was billed as an exclusive, up-close evening with former U.S. President Donald Trump has erupted into a social-media roasting after donors left the “$TRUMP Banquet” hungry, harried, and nowhere near the man whose name headlined every invitation.
According to half-a-dozen attendees who spoke on condition of anonymity, tickets—priced from $1,500 for “basic access” to $25,000 for a promised “presidential tête-à-tête”—offered grand promises of a five-course tasting menu, live entertainment, and “quality time” with Trump himself. Instead, guests describe lukewarm buffet trays of chicken tenders, over-steamed vegetables, and what one disappointed patron dubbed “the soggiest shrimp cocktail south of New Jersey.”
“It felt like a budget wedding where the caterer canceled,” said one platinum-tier ticket holder. “Except I paid enough to buy a small car.”
Adding insult to indigestion, Trump never appeared in the ballroom. Organizers told VIPs he had been “unexpectedly delayed” by a scheduling conflict; two hours later, staff reportedly ushered everyone out without so much as a cameo or a wave from a balcony.
Several high-donor guests demanded on-the-spot refunds. “A photo op with a cardboard cut-out isn’t what my invitation promised,” complained a retiree who had flown in from Texas. Security personnel politely but firmly discouraged would-be protestors from re-entering the venue.
Reached by phone, event spokesperson Jenna Caldwell maintained that the evening “met all contractual obligations” and said a private reception with President Trump had, in fact, taken place—though she declined to provide names or photos of those attendees. She characterized reports of sub-standard catering as “gross exaggerations by a small handful of detractors.”
The Florida Department of Agriculture’s Division of Food Safety confirmed to The Post that no official complaints had been filed by midnight Monday. Even so, social platforms were awash with smartphone footage of half-empty chafing dishes and guests chanting “We want Trump!” beneath chandeliers.
Whether refunds materialize or lawsuits follow, brand experts say the fiasco risks denting the lucrative donor ecosystem surrounding the Trump orbit. “Selling access works only as long as the access is real,” noted political marketing analyst Dr. Ava Hernandez. “Break that illusion once, and the backlash is swift—especially when the hors d’oeuvres are cold.”
For now, the only thing hotter than the ticket prices is the criticism. One attendee summed up the sentiment in a viral post: “Next time I’ll just buy nuggets at the drive-through—and I’ll actually see the clown on the box.”