Buffalo police have identified the victim of a fatal shooting in the city’s Schiller Park neighborhood early Saturday.
Killed was Mister Rogers, 23, of Buffalo.
Police are seeking a man named Captain Kangaroo for questioning . . .
As we’re passing a watch shop in the Buffalo airport, my son, age 15, says, “That reminds me — I need a new watch.”
I say, “Why do you need a new watch? When we were getting my watch, you told me you already had a cool watch.”
“When was that?”
“I don’t remember but it wasn’t that long ago.”
“I didn’t say my watch was cool,” he says. “I just said your watch was lame.”
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 . . .
After a visit to the Hockey Hall of Fame in Toronto, we stopped by a Subway where an Asian woman with a strange accent made our sandwiches.
“Have you been to the Hockey Hall of Fame up the street there?” I asked her.
No answer.
“It’s great!” I said. “We came all the way from California to see it.”
“I came from Buffalo,” she said.
“Really? Where’d you come from before Buffalo?” I asked.
“I saw Niagara Falls,” she said.
