After two blissful years, Mr. Spots Suicide Wings and I met again. Of course, a few things have changed. The first time I went in, I was young, hungry, and still a meat eater, opting for half a dozen boneless Suicide Wings. I could only choke down four at the time with tears streaming down my bright red face. I polished off the remaining two the following morning in a very hungover state, and it was a morning filled with regret. The second time around I was a little bit older, not much wiser, and vaguely vegetarian.  This time my friend Julian, also a quasi-vegetarian, accompanied me. He insisted that to truly experience hot wings we had to go bone-in, so bone-in we went.  

Gearing Up

Meg Wynne

On a beautiful and soon to be futile Saturday, my friends and I entered Mr. Spots. Julian was pretty nervous, and I was worried they would not be as hot as I remembered. Julian ordered first and got a jaw drop out of the girl taking our order; it appeared they were not whipping these Suicide Wings up all the time at Mr. Spots. I went next, most of my nerves coming from the fact that I didn't really know how to eat bone-in wings (still don't). Naively, both of us ordered other food, thinking we would still be a little hungry if we just ate six wings a piece.

Play by Play AKA Wing by Wing 

Meg Wynne

We came strapped with our 32-ounce water bottles, fully knowing that the free eight-ounce Dixie cups were not going to cut what was about to go down. After just a few minutes of anticipation, the wings arrived. The scariest part was that you could smell the wings coming before you even saw them. They gave both of us eight wings rather than six, and in order to truly be hot shots we decided that we had to eat all eight. At the time, I still thought this would be no problem.  

The first wing went down with no problem. Julian succumbed to the sweet relief of the blue cheese during wing two. This early in the game I actually thought and said out loud that I was going to try to eat these eight wings without any water. I would live to eat my words.

Around wings three and four, everything started going downhill. I was shaking so hard that I couldn't even plunge my wings into the blue cheese so I decided to just dunk my tongue directly in it instead. My nose was running so much that the blue cheese got a healthy dose of my own salty snot.

Wing five and we were both bright red and sweating profusely. I was confirmed crying, which, along with the snot, made the experience much saltier and wetter than I had anticipated. Both of our water bottles were covered on the outside in suicide sauce, and backwash had tinged the water.  

By wing six, Julian had almost dusted all of his blue cheese. His eyes were watering but he had yet to shed a tear. At that point we had both drank almost an entire liter. The biggest kicker was that the water was borderline making things worse. We had to pick and choose our battles: drink the water to reignite the stomach or suck up the inferno in our mouths.  

At wing seven and eight, I was no longer making an effort to get all the meat off of the bone. Julian finished before me, with an impressively small amount of sauce on his face. Somehow I had sauce all over my face, as high as the bridge of my nose. I didn't bother to wipe it off until the end, and the pain lasted well after five damp napkins to the face.  

The Aftermath

Meg Wynne

When it was all said and done, we couldn't do anything but dwell on our pain right there in the booth. The other food we had ordered went untouched; the Suicide Wings left their legacy by causing everything we ate or drank to taste exactly like the insane sauce. Our friends tried talking to us, but we were both entering a phase we later decided were "the quivers". Both of us were involuntarily shaking and sweating for ten minutes.  

We eventually made it to the library to do some homework, still rehashing the most severe moments of pain. My stomach hurt so bad that I only lasted two hours, with frequent trips to the bathroom because of the sheer amount of water drunken. To this day, I do not know how Julian lasted into the night.

Was it worth it?  Absolutely not.  We both dropped almost 20 dollars each to be in pain for hours. Neither of us even likes bone-in wings, and we did not think the sauce had stellar flavor. I will definitely be getting my spice high from No Thai for the time being.