The Battle of the Bone.

Shenanigans? Luv' em.

So when the call goes out for a competitor, a champion, a hero to save the day for some stupid competition, I'm there. I answer the clarion call of any contest when it makes its summons.

The contest I entered? An eating competition.

A chicken wing eating competition.

As some of you may recall, I like to call myself the eating champion of Grande Prairie. I won a contest this past St.Patties day for eating the fastest. It was an epic victory. I smote my enemies, and by smote I mean I finished my meal before anyone else was even half way through.

So naturally, when I heard the slightest hint of a chicken wing competition, I was all over it. Especially since it involved chicken wings, because I love me some chicken wings.

I was entered last Thursday, which is when my rigorous training routine began. I started by devouring entire heads of lettuce.

Lettuce is mostly water, and has almost no nutritional value, but it's very voluminous. So when people train for eating competitions they'll put down heads of lettuce to stretch their stomachs. When I started I could finish one head of lettuce in a sitting, about 8 minutes to be exact.

The day before the contest, I was up to two heads in a sitting, which was about 12 minutes.

I also biked a lot. I don't know if that helped, but I'm pretty lazy so I figured the exercise couldn't do any harm.

Then the day came, Wednesday morning (this morning as I post this). I barely slept the night before, images of chicken wings danced relentlessly before my eyes, keeping me awake, while also encouraging me to drool all over my pillow.
I was confident in my abilities to win. This was just a media challenge after all, and out of all the media people who would be representing, I was definitely the greatest. But still, sleep didn't come easy.

I got up early as I had a radio spot scheduled for me to appear and talk about how awesome I am. So I made my appearance, ate come chicken on live radio, shot the shit for a little bit, and went about my day.
I took some promotional photos to get things going, to get me all psyched up.


Then the clock rolled around, 7 pm on the dot was when I was to register. I arrived at Madhatters Liquid Lounge, signed in, and I settled down to have a beer while I waited.


The time came, and I walked up on stage to many cheers. I was the only one who decked himself out for the occasion; Which owes mostly to the fact that wherever I go I like to make a spectacle of my appearances.

I had been told I was going to eat 40 wings, and the first one done would win. No problem, 40 wings is like 3.5 lbs of food. I can eat that easy peasy.

It began.



The only problem though, there were 60 wings on the plate. That was roughly another pound of food. I cruised through the first 50 no problem, but around number 51 I started to loll a bit. I slowed down, things dragged out. I spent more time chewing than I should have. I even got up at one point to puke, but found immediately afterward that the screams of disappointment and the small walk I had livened me up. I pounded through the final 6, and four were left.

Then I lost.

I couldn't get through the last 4 fast enough, and another competitor snuck up from behind and stole my win.

I can honestly say I've never felt worse about a loss. What really grinds my gears is that I had been in 1st place up until #50. I would have won had the surprise amount of wings not been dumped on me.



Oh well, no point in dwelling on it. I masticated my way through the final four wings, finishing in second, and was the only other person to actually finish. Then I immediately went and spewed my recently swallowed food into the toilet.

A hollow finish, bereft of any satisfaction, for a former champ like me.

But this is how all great sports movies start out. I have another chance. This was just a qualifying round, I'll be back in a week or two to try again (just as soon as I can stomach chicken wings again). I lost in my debut round, true. This was the one I was expected to win. But I'll be back, like any great athelete, one setback won't derail my career. I'll take a victory in the second round, and make my way to the finals.

Why do I want to win so badly you ask? Allow me to show you a picture of why I want to win:

Fuck. Yeah.

If I win, that belt is MINE! I must have that belt, and I must reclaim my rightful place as the eating champion of Grande Prairie. There is no substitute for total victory.

And, oh yeah, it's all for charity. I fundraised quite a load of money for the United Way charity. All proceeds of the competition go towards the United Way, so by competing more and bringing more folks in I'll be helping the world or something. So I'll use that as an excuse to not be so selfish.

That kind of works, right? Anyway, I'll keep eating more lettuce, but I'm not above trying something else for a change. Anyone have any tips to help lock in a major victory for me?


UPDATE: I JUST RECEIVED THIS MESSAGE FROM THE EVENT ORGANIZER:

Hi Jake, I just found out the results of the competition and was told that at 40 wings, you were in the lead (and 40 was what we were telling participants). As a result, you will also be going to the finals on September 16th. See you there!

Thanks, I will see you there, and you'd better have that belt ready for me when I get there.

Dear chickens, tremble in fear, for Jake Hammell...
...
IS HERE.