So, everyone's wondering how it all went down.
Arrived at PJ Quigley's @ 6pm for the start of the Superbowl. The place was packed, and the fans were excited for the game. I still don't even know who played, let alone who won. Go squadron!
LJ and I surveyed the crowd, trying to size up who I was going to be up against. It was mostly and older crowd, but I saw a few pockets of younger people. All were eating, so it was hard to tell who was going to compete. I had a few nibbles, but nothing to break my hunger. Ok I had a glass of cherry coke, but I had 2 hours until half time, when the contest started.
The time went on forever. I felt good. I wasn't starving, I wasn't nervous, but I was ready. The names were announced to who would be competing - there were going to be six of us. Six was a good number . . . the less people to compete against, the better.
Halftime came, and we sat around a table in the corner. To my left there was (my nick names for them) Friendly Jock, and Previous Competitor (as seen in old photos of 2007 competition). Across from him was, well, I didn't even see him. Then in the white (see video) was 2008's Champ (an older gentleman), and across from me, The Kid (you'll here his name chanted,Andrew, on the video).
We sat around for a few minutes and I tried sizing up the competition. The Kid looked young and inexperienced. The Friendly Jock was nervous. The Champ looked serious - clearly my biggest threat.
The friendly manager (Andy is his name I think) announced not only the competitors (giving a shout out to me and the blog, thanks!), but also the rules.
- 1lb of wings, flavour hot, were to be consumed as fast as possible
- After eating the wings you had to consume a bottle of Dad's Root Beer. No napkins, saucy fingers to open the twist top.
- The bottle and its contents could not be consumed before the wings.
- Wings would be judged on how much meat was removed
- The winner would receive free wings for a year (2lb once ever month?)
Ok, pretty much what I expected. But after hearing rule 4, I decided to change my eating strategy slightly. If they were judging for cleaning the meat off the bones, I was going to have to take the mili-seconds to eat ALL the meat, not just race through eating. All I could think was, eat the meat, don't waste time.
There was a countdown, Three . . . Two . . . then a false call, Two and a half, but I didn't flinch - and then, BAM! Off I was. Drummy wings got the Spin Move. Meat was falling off the bone. Wingette's got the small bone twist, they were coming right out of the wing - so easy to eat! I looked up and I looked at The Kid, with lots of cheers for him. I kept on. 3 wings left, 2 wings left . . . it was intense. Food was flowing down my throat, no choking, no breathing problems, I was feeling good. 2 wings left. I get to one and I hear what sounds like The Champ moving on to the root beer. Not only him, but the Kid! I rush the last wing and grab the root beer, trying to open it while I swallow. I can't get the bottle open . . . I'm getting stressed . . . why won't this damn thing open? OPEN DAMMIT!!! Ok I get it open, I down the root beer nice a smooth. I see The Kid and The Champ having problems, I can do it, I'm almost there . . .
SNAP. And the Kid wins. The Champ is not happy, not happy at all. I feel a wave of defeat come over me. 3rd place, but really, only #1 counts. I get some napkins and begin to wipe off the defeat. It turns out, I cut both my finger and my thumb trying to open the bottle, but that's not the sting I'm feeling.
Kudos to the kid, he's young, lots of family and friends cheering (his dad was a winner in a year before 2008). But then I start looking. The Champ isn't happy and I see why - something doesn't seem right. I don't want to be a sore loser, but I look at The Champ's bones, then The Kid's, then my own. Something isn't right:
That's right, The Kid barely ate anything off his wings. In fact, some wings only have like 1 bite out of them. I feel a little stilted because if I had stuck to my trained method, I would have done much better, but I heard clearly that meat-left-on-bone judging was going to happen. The thing is, The Champ still beat me, so I feel like he had the title taken from him.
But the key thing is, it was a lot of fun. For my first wing eating competition, I had a blast. And I would do it again. The crowd was entertaining and my 'celebrity' status was a hoot. Thanks PJ Quigleys for the free order of wings, the promotion, and for letting me be apart of the real sport of the night.
SAME WING CHANNEL