Chicken Wings

Six friends, a couple of twelve packs, and Scattergories.

What could possibly be better?

Good question.

The answer is friends, beers, Scattergories. . . and chicken wings.

So my buddy and I loaded up and made the 15-minute drive to the restaurant. We got there early, which gave us time to belly up for a cold draft. Ten minutes later we were back in the truck headed home.

The food was carefully stacked in the back seat of my truck. We had the wings plus nachos and quesadilla that Julia wanted. There was no traffic, so we made it back quickly, in time for the food to still be piping hot.

We hauled it all inside, shoved the beer in the fridge, opened the bags from the restaurant, and then. . .

Total freakin’ disappointment.

We’d asked for the nachos to be boxed with “the stuff” separate from the chips so they wouldn’t get soggy. Clearly, they missed the part about keeping the stuff separate. Also, they missed the part about putting enough stuff on them to actually qualify as nachos. And they missed the part about taking them out of the oven before they started turning black.

The wings? Just barely cooked long enough and not finished on the grill like they were supposed to have been.

The quesadilla was good though. That is if you like cold chicken in the middle of your quesadillas.

Y’all know about cheat day, right? On Saturday, AKA Fatterday? It’s the one day of the week where I get to eat and drink anything I want. For the better part of an hour, I’d been all fired up and excited about beer and chicken wings.

Here I am, ready to reduce a pile of crispy, delicious wings to nothing but clean bones. Instead, I was given a box of rubbery and unappetizing chicken parts.

I ate four and called it quits.

I was pissed off about it, too. I don’t take kindly to anyone messing with my cheat day.

I imagine though, to the crew in the kitchen that night, it was no big deal. There’s no way the guy who made the nachos looked at them and thought, “hell yes, these look awesome!”

But, I’m sure he was busy, and after all, it was just this one order. He can get it right next time.

Same goes for the person at the fryer.

And the person on the grill.

But it all came together to make for a pretty crappy experience and one that will be hard to forget the next time I’m craving wings and nachos.

Everybody gets rushed. From time to time taking a shortcut or delivering something less than your best sure does seem appealing.

“Just this one time,” our mind will say as it tries to rationalize it. As if, at that moment, we have no other choice.

But for our customers and clients, that one time can be far more memorable than all the previous times.

I’ll go back to this restaurant again, but it’s going to take a whole lot of crispy, delicious wings and piles of good nachos before Saturday night is a distant memory.