I’ve been accused of being a little bit crazy. Truth be told, if you really get to know me, I’m pretty bat-crap insane a lot of the time. My personality is over the top, I like to do things differently, and people have a tendency to look at me and either run away or try to chase me down with torches and pitchforks. But when it comes to food, I really do like to experiment. This is extremely true when it comes to hot foods. I don’t mean “fresh out of the oven” hot; I mean “ow this is going to hurt coming out tomorrow” hot. In the world of spicy foods, I’ve done some stupid things.
When I was in college, there was a local bar that made some very awesome hotwings. They had one version that they dubbed “Atomic Meltdown”. They were hot, don’t get me wrong, but I ate a few of them on a regular basis. One year, while I sat on the dorm council, “we” decided to have a Meltdown wing eating contest. I, of course, was in it to win it. They bought the food, I got a free meal. (Hey, it’s college, and I’m cheap!) The coucil made arrangements, ordered the wings, and the contest began. Most ate up to 3 wings, but I had 6. I won, easily, and as a reward, I received a gift certificate (for more wings) as well as the leftovers. Yeah, nobody was crazy enough to want them. Score!
[Coincidentally or not, I don’t know, but a few weeks after the contest, the bar stopped making these wings altogether. I believe that I defeated the town record, and shamed them into oblivion. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.]
Fast forward about 10 years to last year, 2011. I’m a member of a motorcycle riding group, and since we started, we’ve made it a little tradition to take a ride somewhere for me to eat something stupid. Last year was another wing challenge. I had not done another challenge since college, and my propensity for the flame had dwindled with age. Still, I was up for it. Or atleast I thought it was.
One of my buddies suggested a place in Bedford, PA called “Bad Boyz Bistro”. It’s a small restaurant where everything on the menu is named after a movie or movie characters. The wing challenge that they had was called “The Hellraiser Challenge”, presumably not because Pinhead served them to you in a puzzle box, but rather because of the pain involved and the masochistic staffers watching your every move. 10 wings, 20 minutes. Easy, right?
My first clue to this being a hell of a challenge was when I googled “Bad Boyz Bistro” and came up with a video on Youtube. It wasn’t anything from them, but rather a spot on one of Food Network’s extreme food shows. I should have taken that as a warning, but it just got me more excited. In the video, it shows how the wings are made. First, a handful of habanero peppers go into a blender. Next, a handful of GHOST CHILIS go in. (Caution: At this point, if you ever hear that there are ghost chilis in a recipe, just run. Run away. Run fast and don’t look back.) After it’s whizzed up, it goes into a frying pan, which intensifies the natural heat. Oh no, it doesn’t stop there, though. They add “extracts” – the pure capsaicin from peppers. That’s the stuff that makes it hot. It’s like adding lava to a burning gas station. Then this mixture is poured over wings and put in front of your face, presumably as the devil laughs and babies everywhere cry.
The video should have come with a warning. That’s all I’ll say. Yet, we made the ride, parked the bikes, and went in. I didn’t even need to look at the menu. When the waitress asked what I wanted, I told her. Her response: “Are you sure? Are you really sure?” Oh, little girl, don’t make me laugh! Bring it on, baby!! Mistake #1. She brought out the waiver and I signed it. I repeat, she brought out the WAIVER, and I signed it. Mistake #2.
About 20 minutes later, the food arrived. Everyone else got their food first – burgers, regular wings, sandwiches. When mine came out, it was accompanied by the kitchen and wait staff. At first, I didn’t notice their tails, and their hair did a nice job at covering any horns that may or may not have been there. The waitress put the wings in front of me and explained the rules. 20 minutes to complete the challenge, 10 minutes to eat and 10 to sit. No napkins, no drinks, no other food, and no shaking the sauce off the wings. Fair enough… let’s do this. Mistake #3.
As I picked up the first wing, they started the clock. I dove right in, putting the whole thing in my mouth to suck off the “sauce”. It was hot, and the flavor was complex. I remember commenting on the flavor, shaking my head in approval, and then eating the first wing. The next one went about the same – sauce, wing, done. The heat kicked in, and so did the sweat. It began slowly, but increased as if someone had first pulled the plug out of the bathtub, then suddenly the tub itself cracked open through to the floor below.
Wing 3 was in my hands and it started to meet with some resistance. Wing 3 is the turning point. This was the one where most people who do “really well” eat and then throw in the towel. I wanted it, so I ate it. Wing 4 followed suit. At this point, I was drenched in sweat, completely beet red, and my hands started to quiver. Mind you, only a few minutes had passed, and I considered myself to be a pro at this kinda thing.
Wing 5 was the game changer. The week before, a guy came in and ate 5 of them. His pleasant visit to sleepy little Bedford, PA ended with the paramedics pumping his stomach. This was not to be my fate, and I was in this to win it! Hands shaking, head sweating, every inch of me screaming, I ate it. And then… the pain.
The heat from a pepper is one thing. The body can tolerate it if prepared to do so. But in order to fully understand the evil that is inside hot peppers, one must realize that the heat is caused by something your momma always told you not to eat – POISON. Ya see, peppers don’t want to be eaten. They want to grow, make little baby seeds, then fall to the ground to grow more peppers. Ghost chilis don’t like to be eaten at all, and they make it really obvious by poisoning the crap out of you. They don’t want you to suffer, they want you to learn a lesson and never be that damn stupid again!
Wing 5 was it. I was done. I didn’t even notice the heat anymore. There was a pain in my stomach unlike anything else I had experienced before. It was a twisted, dimented, agony with every breath I took. I wanted it gone.
The wait staff brought me milk, and I couldn’t even drink it. The peppers wouldn’t let me. They brought me a roll, and I couldn’t eat it. The peppers wouldn’t let me. I made several attempts to “purge” in the bathroom, but couldn’t. The peppers wouldn’t let me. There was only one thing to do – wait it out and survive it. I was NOT going to be like that guy who got his stomach pumped. I made this mistake and I was going to live with it!
For 45 minutes, I laid on the floor at the restaurant. Patrons came in and asked what happened. “He tried the wing challenge”, and that was enough of a response to explain it all. I laid there, writhing in agony, unable to eat or drink or speak or move. The pain was incredible. 45 minutes, on the floor of a restaurant, pride be damned. When it started to subside, I got up and sat in my chair for another 20 minutes, trying desparately to eat ice cream. It didn’t help.
Another 30 minutes later, we left. On the bikes. For the 45 minute ride home. Every 5 minutes, the pain came back in waves. I held on, lightened up on the throttle when I needed to, and made my way back home and away from the sheer hell of torture, pain, and peppers. When I arrived at home, I had to pee. Never, EVER, in my life have I peed fire until now. Flames, folks, came out, or atleast I think they did. I was still seeing dragons in the air and hearing souls screaching for mercy at this point. Later on that day, the remainder of the wings needed to exit. Let’s leave it at that.
There’s a lesson to be learned here, folks. I’m not sure exactly what it is right now because I’m having flashbacks and ghost pains from the experience. But there’s definitely a lesson to be learned here. Never judge a book by its cover? A bird in the hand? No… Play with fire and you’re bound to get burned. In the anus. A few hours later.
Oh, and if that didn’t teach you, here’s the video:
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