Judging The Wings (80)
5980
We went in and stood on the other side of the door for a second. The front area was dim, with dining tables and people eating. We went to the back section, a framing on the left and right walls separating the two areas. It was a better-lit dining and drinking area with booths along three walls and some tables in the center. We grabbed one of the center tables, Mark to my left and John across from me. Our square table was askew from the lines made by the walls, and my back was to the front. In front of me in the right corner was a wall mounted television with a college basketball game on. A plastic announcement-holder on the table described the rules to the house Video Trivia game.
“The main attraction?” I said.
I pointed out the holder.
“This doesn’t look very good.”
A smartly dressed blonde stepped up to our table with friendly greetings and handed us each a menu, and she asked what we would like to drink. We took a second to glance down at the menus, then at each other, and then to the waitress. We each asked for a beer, me telling her we weren’t eating. She happily took my menu with a smile, then Mark’s, and then reached for John’s, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“I’d like to take a closer look at the menu.”
She conceded with a chipper okay and turned to go fetch our beers. With her out of the way we agreed to one another that it looked like a pretty lame joint. I glanced up at the basketball game. The sound was off and the teams were of no interest to me. The waitress came back with the beers and set them on the table with a happy comment. She turned to go back and John stopped her and asked about the chicken wings. He pointed into the menu.
“They are a bit pricier than the ones from back home.”
She laughed.
“They are extra big and very tasty. I saw some in the kitchen the last time I went in.”
John thanked her and handed her the menu. She took it with a smile and turned away, but then turned back.
“Would you like to try some wings?”
John looked over at me. I offered a blank expression. He looked over at Mark. Mark made a negative face. John turned to the blonde.
“We haven’t decided yet.”
She pranced off. With her out of the way John proposed we get a dozen wings.
“To see what they were like in Santa Fe.”
Mark declined. Hearing that, I gave the same response, and then John’s mood turned sullen. Working at Gus Garcia’s back in Athens, John assumed the mien of expert at hot wings.
“I only wanted to see what they were like out here, to enjoy a little critical comparison.”
“I thought you were only a dishwasher at Gus’s,” I said.
“Yeah, I am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to judge a wing. I get them there all the time when I get off work.”
The situation urged me to agree to split a dozen wings with John. I didn’t want the chicken wing conflict to ruin our night out in Santa Fe.
“Well, now I’m interested in seeing how the wings taste, myself.”
Me At The Stoplight
“If experience were to a human being like a transmission is to a car, what would happen if you lost your experience? Unlikely as it sounds, it is a condition that can exist. I had been operating from this neuropsychological state since 1987, but I wouldn’t even begin to realize it until after 1993 while I was attending the University of Georgia, a Drawing and Painting major and member of a social fraternity.”
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
