Eat to Beat the Best, and Dine with all the Rest

As you may recall, I was in an eating championship back in August.

I didn't win, but I qualified for the finals on a technicality. You see, I had been training to eat 40 hot wings the fastest, but they plopped down 60 instead. I finished in second, puked, and went home to compete another day.

Well last night was for all the marbles. The finals. The moment my life has been consumed by for the past month and a half. The last day of the greatest wing eating competition mankind has ever witness, all for the glory of being the Battle of the Bone champion, master of the Mighty Wing Belt.

Yes, that really is the image of Peter Griffin fighting the Chicken. Now do you understand why I had to have it?

But it didn't come without preparation.

More lettuce was eaten to expand my stomach. And for yesterday's lunch I ate 3/4 of a giant hoagie.

This sammich actually worked out pretty well, because by the time I got to the competetion I was just starting to get hungry again.

Instead of drinking Guiness before going up, as is my usual choice, I decided to heed to advice of a friend who commented that I probably should not have slurped down the heaviest beer possible before competing.

Instead, I drank warm water, had some celery, and settled in for the big moment.

I walked up on stage to many cheers and hoots from my squad. All the other challengers were instantly intimidated by my suppourtive friends and coworkers.


as well as my fancy robe (which was kindly donated by my station's sales manger. It's one of her bathrobes, but hey, whatever works) and team jerseys.

After some pregame interviews, we all stood up, and began.

I quickly mowed my way through the first 30 wings and hit a serious wall at the final ten. That's when my closest competition, the guy immediately to my left, began to slow up too.


We were neck and neck the entire way until the final wing, but in the end he finished before me.

All wasn't lost just yet though, a glimmer of hope still sparkled in the distance. I struggled to swallow down the final bit of chicken about thirty seconds after the first guy was done, threw the bone of my discontent onto the pile, and waited for the scales to come out.

This time around they weighed the finished plates to make sure someone wasn't just eating the bare minimum, and that someone who was actually eating more didn't lose on account of being more thorough.

The final result:

Jake Hammell of Big Country places second, his plate weighs 8 more ounces than Mr Shannon George of the Grande Prairie Drillers.

Shannon George is the victor of the Battle of the Bones

Jake Hammell can go drown his sorrows in alcohol,

And suck it.

I'm really, really, bummed out about this loss. I know it's just a silly competition, but man, I wanted that belt something bad.

Next year I'm going to win that belt come hell or high water. There will be no stopping me. It's mine dammit, and I'm going to get it!

On a side note, I wouldn't recommend reading this next part if your not a fan of having "To much information," my urine this morning smelt an awful lot like hot wing sauce. That was pretty darned unsettling. But the gigantic free meal and free drinks were defintely worth it.