The Wingferno, AKA Dante’s 10th Circle

 

Do not be afraid. Our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.

– Dante Alighieri

Unknown peppers and death? I’m in.

As you age, you do really stupid things to prove your eternal youth. Participating in a fiery-hot wing eating challenge, courtesy of Dry Dock Brewing and The Wing Hut, is one of them. I’m sure trying to consume deadly wings falls somewhere between the 4th and 5th circles of Hell (look it up, people!), but I thought, “eh, why not?” My wife made sure my life insurance plan was up to date to support my decision, and my son wasn’t sure what to think, because what could be wrong with eating chicken wings? They’re like a step below bacon.

Thankfully, I lived! You too can survive such acts of idiocy too, provided you follow my plan.

Pre:
Prepare the lining of your intestines for the onslaught it will encounter. For me, this meant chili with jalapeños, sriracha, and some homemade hot sauce.

Imagine the training scene from Rocky IV, but with hot sauce.

I didn’t eat this every night, but certainly for quite a few. What made things especially nice was a family from New Mexico who gave me a bottle of their family hot sauce. It burned. A lot. I considered that the secret element that would put me over the top. At some point during my training, my son asked, “Dad, what if you fail?” Huh. Well, I can’t fail now. Dad mode kicked in. I might not be able to throw a football very far, or shoot things, but dammit, my stomach can sure take a beating!

During:
Hoppy beers tend to numb my extremities a bit. Secret’s out. I decided to use this to my advantage by drinking Dry Dock’s Double IPA and a Hop Abomination prior to the competition. Maybe it helped. It probably didn’t, but were these to be my last beers, at least I went out on a strong note.
Here is a gallery of what followed (pictures of me writhing in pain were removed at the suggestion of my editor):

Why would you need goggles? Oh, you probably don’t want death entering your eyes.

A little positivity doesn’t hurt. And just like in “Over the Top” (is that my 2nd Stallone reference?!), turning my cap backwards meant I was all business.

Dig in! My strategy was to eat as fast as possible, then “wait it out.” Once the searing pain subsided, a dull, steady pain took over. I think it was a good plan. At least I wasn’t pressured by the clock. Says son “you ate the wings the fastest!” Well, there’s that.

 

Post:
Winner!
Nick brewed a great nut ale for participants of the contest, and while it was quite delicious, the beer just swirled the hot sauce that was sticking to my intestines and reapplied it to unsuspecting areas. Death would have been preferable at this point.

If you can imagine a dwarf (of middle-earth lore, D&D, and Viking metal, obviously) twisting his somewhat war – dulled axe into your stomach joyously, then that would accurately describe the pain I felt. Thankfully, the missus suggested a milkshake, courtesy of Sonic. (Banana FTW!) 30 minutes later, I came to the realization that I had much left to offer this world, and the thoughts of self – termination ceased.

Was it worth it? Sure, I got a sweet t- shirt. Am I going to do it again? No, I don’t need to prove my manhood again. Hell, it took me this long to post about the event.