I Hate Chicken Wings!!!

Back when my both of my legs worked, my wife, Spring Devinne, picked me up from work. Because of an early start that day, she picked me up earlier than normal. It was around 1 pm and we were driving past a BW3, also known as Buffalo Wild Wings and as usual, we were both hungry and decided to give it a try. I wont say which one it was but it was on Lincoln Avenue near Fullerton, across from the Biograph Theater. The Biograph was made famous as the place that the Lady In Red snitched out John Dillinger. Also famous for a 100 year midnight run of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, where all these knuckleheads from Lincoln Park dressed up and threw asswipe at each other and sang songs about transvestites. I am sure they thought it was cool at the time but I bet if you ask one of them about it now, they would either deny it or straighten their wig and say it was the defining moment in their lives.

Back to chicken. I was wearing my work uniform and I was, as usual, kind of greasy and disheveled (I am a Maintenance Technician). Also, we came in my Jeep Wrangler, top off, doors off, hair wind-swept from the ride and sweaty from summer in the 773. We park and enter into some first class air conditioning, and were greeted by a little, snotty hostess. He gave us a glare  and asked if he could help us? Now why would I be there, to buy paint? To get a prescription filled? No jerk off, we want chicken wings!!! Spring immediately sensed an impending smart assed comment dangling from the tip of my tongue and took the lead. He gathered up two menus and said to follow him but I really needed to wash my hands and face before I did anything else so I asked for directions to the restroom. He pointed to a downward set of stairs and I followed the arrow and at the bottom found the phones and the restrooms, one door with a rooster on it, the other a hen. Cute. I walked into roosters and the first thing I noticed was the smell, like a packing house next to a rendering plant behind a tannery across from the paper factory. I looked left, sink, then urinal. I looked right, toilet stall, door open. I took two steps and looked into the stall and I immediately threw up a couple of tablespoons of bile into my mouth. Someone had taken a Trucker Dump in that stall. I mean they must have just barely made it in there and as they were trying to get their pants down, they let it fly. Whoever used that stall had some serious explosive poopee, I mean they hit the wall with it, the back of the toilet, the toilet seat, the floor and the walls of that stall. The only thing that dude did not hit was the water in the toilet. It was as foul as I have ever seen and I have been to thirteen countries while in the military, ten of which were third and fourth world bananna republics where poop goes into a hole dug into the floor while you try to balance on two pieces of driftwood while trying to wipe your ass with your sock because there is no such thing as asswipe. Well, I made a B line to the sink and began washing my hands and face. My hands now clean, I go and make pee pee and then start washing my hands again when the dude that was the hostess walks in the bathroom. I looked at him, he looked at me and then he looks into the stall and freezes. Then he looks at me again and I can read his mind like a dog can smell a steak. He thinks I pooped in that stall! I had to defend myself so before he can say anything I blurt out, “I didn’t do that”! He gets this weird smirk on his face and says, “oh, oh, I didn’t say anything”, but deep down in my heart I knew he was certain I did that. As soon as I walked out of the bathroom, I can hear that little snot start snickering. I hurried upstairs and wanted to tell Spring Devinne that we needed to leave right away, only to find out that she had ordered already. Darn my good wife! So I tell her whats up, she snickered just like the hostess. I turn my head and there he is, standing at the end of the bar, all the employees in the place circling him as if he is telling a campfire ghost story. All at once, every single head in that circle turns at the same time and looks at me and everyone starts laughing. Now I cannot look anywhere but straight ahead. It feels like hours, but finally, wings. The smallest, most expensive chicken wings I have ever eaten. Yes, they were tasty but if I was to get full on these wings, It would have cost me a C-note. As it was we had two drinks and three orders of wings, $55.00, then tip, $65.00. Anyhow, while eating, I kept hearing fart sounds and Bronx Cheers from the bar area, along with grunting and laughing and one loud “PEE YEWWW” !!!. So by this time I want to kill someone or something but I was dining with the voice of reason. On the way out, the hostess was standing there smirking at me and I just had to say something so I told him that those were the smallest wings I had ever seen and asked if the chickens that they used had POLIO? He just smirked and said ” no sir, no polio, but maybe an intestinal issue”. I  just put my head down and walked out. Man, I hate chicken wings……


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