Its on the verge of dusk, and it;s grey and cloudy. I feel like I'm on my way home with LJ and we've stopped to grab some food from this vendor on the side of the road. It's a white tent and inside are people lined up for food. A small Indian man is cooking in a heavy winter coat.
The crowd in line is a mish-mash of people, and everyone is ordering different things. The menu has BBQ ribs, burgers and other food, but I'm there for the chicken wings. I'm very worried because it's the end of the day and I don't want him to run out. I hear a gangsta type guy ahead of me asking about the wings, as in what is in an order. Something is said about whole wings, and I notice a little paper menu detailing that you can get 2 whole wings for $2 or 4 split wings for $5. Clearly the whole wings are the better deal, and I want to order a bunch so LJ and I can split flavours.
I keep rehearsing in my head what I will say: "I sure hope you have wings left!" "Don't tell me you have run out of wings" "Please tell me you still have wings" etc etc. The good news was that the 2-3 people in line ahead of me did not order wings. The bad news; I didn't even make it to the wings before I woke up.
Dang, it seems I need to get some wings!