When Winning Hurts: The Eagle Wings Tale

This story deviates from the Pie Path. It's about chicken wings. I think it is worth telling.

Once upon a time, Pi Man was a young salesman who, like many young sales people, kicked off work early on a Friday afternoon to hang out at a bar.

This one bar had very spicy wings called Eagle Wings. They were pure fire in the mouth.

These wings were so spicy that no one in the group ever ate more than four at one sitting. The brave soul who managed four would sweat all over his expensive suit like he was being tortured. He was a star. A sweaty, miserable star.

But then came Neal.

Neal was a young sales guy from elsewhere in the branch, across the river where people apparently had different ideas about pain and dignity. He said he would eat ten Eagle Wings if invited. Everyone thought he was bragging and would fold after two, maybe three if he was trying to impress someone.

So we thought.

When Neal showed up, he had a process. Like a surgeon preparing for a delicate operation, he removed his suit jacket, his tie, and his crisp white shirt. This was back in the 1990s, when all salesmen wore suits and ties.

There he sat in his t-shirt, methodically removing all the chicken meat from ten wing bones. He created a large pile of chicken meat which he rubbed excessively in the Eagle Sauce. Eagle Sauce was directly related to volcano lava.

Then something beautiful and terrible happened.

Neal started to chant "I'm pledging, I'm pledging" and then smoothly and quickly ate all the meat from ten wings. He smashed the record. He was a legend. The crowd went wild.

Six months later, I saw Neal and his girlfriend at a work event. She leaned in close and told me that after his wing consumption triumph, he spent the evening in the bathroom, screaming at the top of his lungs: "I hate you guys."

It was a magnificent sacrifice of his well-being to attain legend status.