Kiss Me, I Taste Like Chicken

The training is finished. I've eaten my last meal until the contest.

All of the pieces are falling into place. The float still needs some attention, but is 90% there. I cant describe it for you yet, because I want it to be a surprise on Friday. It is brilliant in it's simplicity and execution, and was proposed by my 10 year old son. All of that sounds great, until you know what it is......

Physically I feel ok. Many people in the area have contracted stomach flu this week and I'm doing all I can not to get sick. I have come to far for that to happen.

Interesting Fact 1: At 230lbs, I am the lightest of the 20 Philadelphia Eaters

Interesting Fact 2: At 230lbs, I am heavier than any of the 5 'Pro' Eaters

Interesting Fact 3: At 230lbs, I am heaviest I have ever been, yet my pants still fit! Last time I hit 230lbs I wasnt that lucky. Must have put on some muscle somewhere along the line and not just fat. Looking forward to being skinny again though.

Mentally I'm ready for this to happen, it's been such a long road, I am ready to arrive and perform. I'm really tired of practicing, and my stomach is sore. Certainly I love to eat, but for a short time I look forward to smaller more managable portions.

Thursday night, at 4pm I will go to Chickie & Petes (Philly Sports Bar) for the weigh in. All of the Eaters will be there and we will be filmed and on the radio. All of the strippers will be there as well (clothed). Bar patrons will eat chicken wings and swig beer as I look on longingly. Each Eater will be brought out and weighed on a huge butchers scale in front of the crowd. They always have a newbie go first, and they tell him he must weigh-in in his underwear. Curious if he'll fall for it.

It's a great chance to get to know the other eaters. Most of them are great guys who might be having as much fun as me. All 5 'pro's' will be there as well, and I already know what wonderful people they are. My kids will be at the weigh-in too, and it's a chance for them to get photos with their favorites. In particular my ten year old would like to get Badlands Booker to autograph his cds. Badlands is retired but may show up to the contest I understand.

Afterwards I will put the finishing touches on all arraingements and welcome the many friends who will be crashing at the Steakbellie home. At 2:30am I will awake from my half-slumber and put on my kilt. By 3:00 am 40 people will have gathered in my dining room, and I will give them nasty looks as they laugh and begin drinking alcohol. The yellow school bus we've hired will take us to the Wachovia Center at that point and the smells of breakfast sandwhiches and bloody marys will be everywhere. I will stare out the back window and wonder what the hell I'm doing.

At 3:30am pull into an already full parking lot and make our way through the crowds. My team has been issued all access passes, but experience says that we will still have trouble getting in. Once the float is loaded onto the rear dock, my Team of 10 will join me in the locker rooms as the remaining 30 friends drink and party on the bus til 6am.

Underneath is a brewing storm of nerves and excitment. The eaters are quiet and smile out of the sides of their mouths. The friends of the eaters, yell and skip and try to get their photos taken with 'Wingettes' of various states of dress.

We're underground for about 4hours waiting for the Contest to begin. In the stadium fans are alight from a binge of all night drinking. Many of them dont care what happens. Everyone is screaming and stomping feet, and it rolls like thunder down the concrete into the basement. I will still quietly and pretend to smile at my joyous friends. I am so happy for them, this is such a great opportunity to act like a boy again.

The producers will line us up in order. Each Float is released into the stadium one at a time as the announces describe it all for the listening audience. Hockey glass protects (somewhat) the procession from the violently exhuberant crowd. Busty girls will reveal themselves at minute intertvals for the fans delight.

When our turn comes, my brother will begin playing the bagpipes deep within the hallways. It's nearly painful how loud it is, but so moving to hear. I love that he will play for me and it stirs so many emotions. It's funny to think about, but people in generations past would actually go to war like this. Friends, family and neighbors on all sides. A brother playing the bagpipes. Lots of Plaid.

We march slowly to the mouth of the stadium, in step to the music, pulling our Float behind us.....I'm waiting for my chance...it's coming....