[CH] Humility - a true story
Ashkenaz, Scott (Scott.Ashkenaz@kla-tencor.com)
Thu, 3 Sep 1998 12:23:56 -0700
<Warning> this is not a pretty story. If you are squeamish, you may want to
skip it. But, if you are either sadistic, or can empathize with masochism,
read on. </Warning>
There is a place in Santa Clara (CA) called Cluck University - I think that
it is a chain. They specialize in spicy wings, and have several different
heat levels. The hottest is "Global Thermonuclear." It's not bad - the heat
made me glow a little, and the taste is a blend of tomato, garlic, spices,
and lots'o'chile.
They also do something called the "911 Challenge." As in many cases of these
things, one must sign a waiver - a long, detailed one which also proclaims,
"I am an idiot." If you can eat the dozen wings in 10 minutes (no napkins,
no drinks, no nothing else, and you're not supposed to drink anything
beforehand), you win a T-shirt proclaiming your survival. Oh, joy.
Of course, this had my name on it, so last Friday, we went there to do
battle. Or, I should say I did, with some folks along for moral support. Or
was that egging on? Whatever. We all knew I could do it. But, true to the
rule, not only had I not had anything to drink, I also had not eaten
anything, so I was doing this on an empty stomach. (Insert ominous
foreshadowing-type music here.)
I ordered. I signed. I paid. I calmly waited (OK, with a little Foosball
thrown in.) One of the servers who had been there for about six weeks had
never seen anyone eat more than five, but he could just tell that I was the
one. He was rooting for me as he brought out the order. There were twelve
well-caked legs and wings wallowing in a glob of very dark red goo. No
napkins - I'd have to lick my fingers.
They said to eat the first ones fast, since it gets harder later, and, of
course, I only had ten minutes. No problem. The first one was thermally hot,
so I had to eat it slowly. The sauce did not taste like Dave's singed cat
(to my surprise), and was actually somewhat tasty. The fruitiness of fresh
habaneros, some garlic, and, yes, the bite of bottled hot sauces. Something
like Mad Dog Armageddon. I calmly finished off the first one, sucking the
sauce off the ends. I ate the second one a little faster. It seemed that
everyone in the place was now watching. (All six of them.) I licked my
fingers. It was getting hot, but I was not sweating.
As I picked up the third wing, I felt a twinge in my stomach. You see, from
time to time, I have a reaction to habaneros or extract-based sauces. I
never know when it will hit. I can go months eating most anything, and then
one time, it just reacts. The reaction was starting: a dull pain in my gut.
I ate half of the third wing, and decided that my stomach was not going to
let me do it, so I just put the half wing down. "I'm not going to make it."
And stopped.
It was about that time that I did start to sweat a little. The server was
impressed that I had gone so far without a reaction, but he was clearly
disappointed. As, of course, was I. So, I got some water, and Chris offered
to go to the Safeway next door and get some yogurt. "What flavor?"
The yogurt helped a little (Thanks, Chris.) Chris tried one wing. Well, he
ate one bite and loudly proclaimed, "Oh, my {expletive} {expletive} god!
"That is {expletive} {expletive} hot!" You know those little plastic
containers that they serve the blue cheese dressing in? Chris demonstrated
that a tongue fits into it. Beer, of course, does not help - but we had a
pitcher.
So, we sat there for a while longer, ate some fries, drank some water, some
beer, and talked about the next time. They wrapped up the left-over wings
for me to take, and off we went.
Ah, but it does not end here...
I drove home, and was not feeling too well. I had some milk and a banana to
try to get some mild stuff into my stomach. I sprawled out, but found that
lying down really did not help, and neither did sitting. I was pacing, and
getting more and more uncomfortable. Then, the sharp, wrenching, explosive
stab hit. And did not go away. I went into the bathroom, hoping to purge,
but the little I could do did not help. I lay on the floor, and started to
have cold sweats. My hair was drenched. I was doubled over in pain which did
not stop. I felt my extremities go cold and numb as my body tried to
conserve blood and send it all to my stomach. (Was that shock setting in?)
The cats sat nearby and watched. (It was their bathroom, after all.)
I though about calling an ambulance, but I could not make it to the phone.
911 challenge, indeed. I really thought that I would die. I wondered what
was happening physiologically. I cried out in agony. I laughed. Really. I
was laughing, thinking that this would be poetic justice. I was in agony,
and I had brought it on myself.
Eventually, the pain subsided somewhat, and then almost completely
disappeared. I had another banana, some milk, and some other stuff. I laid
down to watch Iron Chefs. About that time, Roswitha (my wife) came in from
work, and said, "So, how were the wings?"
"There are some leftovers - have one."
I am an idiot.
scott@and no ring of fire the next day!