Our flight out of Buffalo was delayed by gusty winds so we ducked into Anchor Bar at the airport for an order of buffalo wings. The Anchor Bar wings come with five sauce options: mild, medium, hot, spicy bar-b-que or suicidal.
I asked the waitress, “The ‘suicidal’ wings — who’s responsible if they result in my actual death?”
“Oh they’re not like that,” she said. “There’s other places in Buffalo that serve wings a lot hotter. Oh my gosh, if you actually died?”
“You could use that in your advertising: ‘A guy actually died eating these wings!'”
“I’ll keep the defibrillator handy.”
We gave the suicidal wings their day in court. We liked them. Like the waitress said, they actually weren’t as hot as the wings I’ve had at some other places, despite the small kernels of red and black pepper that are actually in the sauce and on the wings.
My pulse and respiration may have been slightly elevated but not to a life-threatening level . . .