Issue date: 6/30/08 Section: Opinion

I don't think I've ever eaten any food that had more rules attached to it than these wings. The release form itself was the pretty standard "I won't sue anybody even if this product causes my brains to explode out of my eye sockets like cheap party poppers" type waiver. Once you're done signing away your soul and you firstborn child, you've still got to sit through the contest rules. First off, you aren't allowed any other food except a pitcher of water and a loaf of white sandwich bread (which come with unlimited refills.) If you throw up, you are disqualified, have to clean up the mess and judging from the looks on their faces, the staff will key your car. Furthermore, for some incomprehensible reason, you aren't allowed to take the meat off the bone with anything other than your teeth.

It takes a good half-hour before the paperwork is settled and the wings are prepared. Their actual arrival was rather anticlimactic in my case, because I couldn't actually see the wings. Everything was covered in a cup of thick, pasty sauce of a color that could be politely described as "bloody diarrheic red," (which in retrospect was an omen of things to come.)

But the real important thing is taste. Saying these wings were the spiciest food I have ever eaten doesn't do it justice. But then you would expect that. What you cannot expect is the flavor. I've eaten Cajun food so spicy it made me cry, but it still tasted good. I have no words to describe how utterly foul these wings were. Or rather, I have no printable words. If you were to remove the spiciness entirely, these wings would still be the most painful things I have ever put in my mouth (and that's including the time in seventh grade when I was dared to eat a live hermit crab.) From a flavor point of view, they might as well serve a plate of hot wings smeared with human excrement (wasn't that on an episode of fear factor?)

Fortunately, the sheer heat destroys your taste buds after the first few wings. Unfortunately, it took me an hour just to finish one. By hour two, I was less than halfway through and started to get adrenaline shakes so bad I could hardly get the food to my mouth. People would walk in for lunch and stare apprehensively as I convulsed in my seat, trying not to stab myself in the eye with a chicken bone. "Yeah," someone would explain "The epileptic guy is trying the release form wings."

Continued...

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