Time to air a little personal
laundry here.
It's hard to admit this and
will probably surprise a lot of
people, so bear with me.
I love food. Lots of food.
I know it's shocking, and I'll
give you a minute to catch your
breath.
In the meantime, I'll just
daydream about the impending
opening of Zaxby's and
Ming Wah.
I've long been a fan of Zaxby's.
In fact, I spent a lot of
time (and money) at their Augusta
locations two of which
were just minutes from my Columbia
County offi ce and the
other was just down the road
from Augusta State University,
my collegiate alma mater.
Aside from many, many
filling meals, Zaxby's also
provided me and my stomach
a much-needed respite from
spicy foods.
It was one day in college that
I fi rst ventured into Zaxby's
and ordered a dozen wings.
I was with Miriam and
still in the mode of trying to
impress her so I ordered the
wings drenched in the chain's
"Nuclear" sauce. The server
looked at me with sympathetic
eyes and said, "Are you
sure you want Nuclear? It is
really hot."
"No problem," I said. "I can
handle it."
She shook her head, entered
them into the computer system,
and a few minutes later
I had a plate full of orangesauce-
covered wings. They
certainly looked radioactive.
The fi rst thing I noticed was
the smell.
My nostrils burned as I
walked back to the table. But
hey, I'm a man, and men can
feast on all things hot.
I sat down, extra large
Mountain Dew at the ready,
and took my first bite.
A little warm, I thought, but
hey, I'm a real man, and real
men can feast on all things
hot.
Seconds later, the heat
hit me. "Hit" is not strong
enough. Slammed. Shredded.
Impaled.
Then the spigot turned on
and the sweat rolled off my
head and other parts of my
body. The heat was so bad my
teeth hurt.
French fries would not
quench it. The gallon of Mountain
Dew didn't come close. A
piece of Texas Toast didn't even
think about it.
To make matters worse, the
heat from one wing fried my
appetite for the day. (Just the
day, mind you. I've been back
many times since.)
Finally, after several failed
attempts to satiate the heat,
the crying started.
I had to shy away from other
customers as tears streamed
down my face. And they continued
for a while, even after
I'd gotten in the car to leave.
Yep, I'm a real man, and real
men cry.
Now, excuse me if I get a
little misty-eyed at the mere
mention of Zaxby's.
There's a burning in my
body for that "real chicken"
restaurant.
