Wing Night

Now I’m at the hotel bar. It’s a good one. A whole bunch of guys just came in, and they have a $100 bet that one of them can’t eat 30 suicide wings in 30 minutes. You know I’m sticking around for that. Usually there’s a cover charge for a show like this. The victim is drinking a big glass of milk right now. There was a brief scare that the kitchen didn’t have enough wings, but we’re go now. I have an excellent view.

3 wings in, he’s sweating. He’s doing a diligent job wiping the sauce off his lips. He’s trying to pick up speed without success. He’s got another milk. He’s using his fingers to tear the meat off the bones to save his lips, but before long his fingers are going to start burning. He doesn’t know that. He’s Canadian. My Greek Salad is so cool and refreshing. He’s starting to lose focus, but he’s still going. Deep breath, another bite.

He’s nodding now – He’s in a groove. The pain has stopped getting worse.

He’s starting to wipe the sauce off his fingers. My camera’s back in the room. Dammit.

Posture change. He’s back in his chair now, not forward over the table. His friends, who stand to lose a hundred bucks if he succeeds, are completely behind him now. Shoulder massages, a new five-minute “bump” period after the 30 minutes have expired. They’re checking his pace against the clock, giving him advice. Mostly, “eat faster.” He’s falling behind. The call has gone out for more napkins. Not from the eater; he hasn’t said a word for fifteen minutes.

He quit. There are 14 left. 16 is pretty damn good. The waitress says 16 is a house record, but I doubt she really knows. The dude is hurting, but he’s recovering already.

He’s thinking about going for it! 5 minutes, 14 suicide wings. He’s doing it! “Better get a bucket,” I advised the crowd. “Don’t bother chewing,” a friend advises. What a way to choke to death. Two minutes, one wing. He’s a black guy, but he’s looking green. He’s chewing. Chewing. He’s not looking good.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asked, and got up quickly. His buddy followed with the camera. Buddy returns. “He had the door closed,” Buddy says, “but I got the audio.”

Now the remaining wings are being passed around. “I’m not eating one because I’m not a dumbshit,” the guy at the end of the table said. Someone just found “Fire Down Below” by Bob Seger on the jukebox.

Thus we learn the price of hubris. He has returned from his de-winging and is having another milk. It seems last night he had first said he could eat fifteen, but had escalated to 30 to get a bigger bet. Instinctively he knew his limit, but he had to push it. He’s smiling now, but he went through an hour of hell to be $100 poorer.

7 thoughts on “Wing Night

  1. I enjoyed that story Jer, but being from Buffalo where every child can do 30 wings in under 30 minutes…I am not impressed.

    You see, all these buffalo wing want-a-be’s don’t understand the art of eating a wing.

    You must so you can stick the whole wing in your mouth lengthwise. Once the wing is in your mouth, close your teeth on it and rip it out of your mouth.

    30 minutes…jeez…that’s no challenge…

  2. And milk?!!! What the heck? !!!

    Little do people know, but Labatts or Molson beer a have secret ingredients in them that make eating endless amounts of chicken wings possible..

    Jeez, I could have used $100…Maybe I should go out west as a chicken wing eater con-artist..

    30 minutes with milk…jeez…

  3. chicken wing eater con-artist. Ha. That oughta be in something. A movie or sometin’.

    the thing about chicken wings is they’re hot – which knocks out a lot of people – AND they’re like 99% fat – which knocks out a whole other segment, me included. Buffalo must be full of special people to consume blazing hot rubbery chicken skin fat with relish. Mighty special people.

  4. You also have to realize that I am in territory where ketchup is a spice. Also, in defense of the poor schlub the suicide wings were damn hot, and I grew up in spicy food country myself. The hot wings were pretty toasty, but had a decent flavor.

    To make your wing con work you would have to find the very rare pub with truly hot wings and lie in wait for large groups of younger men to arrive, then work your way into the group. It would require a lot of hanging out in bars and drinking with boisterous crowds. Think you have it in you, Pants?

  5. YES! I think I can do it!

    The trick with hot wings is to not stop consuming…continue to eat and eat unti you are done…Then you only feel the spice once at the end…

    oh and jesse, buffalo has a large population of fat people…that is how they are special…

    I hope we all could hear my sarcasm in my last posts…

  6. I did advise the eater that even if he didn’t have chap stick then, it would still come in handy the next morning.

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