Upon leaving Hampton Roads, we made a quick stop to visit the Beach Dude Gorilla Statue near the Virginia Aquarium. This would be the first excuse of the day for Zach to get out his Hawaiian T-Shirt.
Zach visits his cousin on the way out of town:
In Newport News, we discovered the Virginia War Museum. Not wanting to spend the money to walk around in air conditioned comfort, we trotted around the the outside examining tanks, mortars, torpedoes, and atomic cannons. Yes, cannons that shoot nukes. Really really far. Like, far enough that they won't kill the artillery crew. Cool.
Conveniently, the War Museum's tanks were positioned right next to a playground for an easy start to our New World Order.
The heat played havoc with our attempts at shenanigans, as Zach attempted a reenactment of Slim Pickens crowning moment from Dr Strangelove. Torpedoes which sit out in the sun all day tend to be rather warm to the touch and Zach was only just able to straddle it for a picture. This would be the first excuse of the day for Zach to burn himself for a really childish reason.
We arrived at Richmond around 5 and meet John at a place called Caliente for the Man Vs Food Stupid Wings Challenge. Rules were laid out: Zach must eat 8 Stupid Wings in 30 minutes with 1 napkin, no other food or drink until he finished them, and must not puke for the duration of the stay. We had two radically different perspectives on the events that transpired there, so we each give our accounts.
Ben: I have the utmost confidence in Zach as he signs the legal waiver after ordering. He is all smiles and excitement and grins when they put a bubbling plate of lava colored lumps in front of him. After one wing he is breathing heavily, tears in his eyes. After a couple more, the shakes start, his fingers and mouth are covered in sauce, and his sole focus seems to be on exhaling. He finishes the plate about 10 minutes into the time, at which time he consumes 4 glasses of water and begins the first of his four cartons of milk. His whole chin is dyed red from the sauce. Syllables come from his mouth, but are never more than “Milk” or “Water”. His whole face is red as a beet and we had to remove his hat for him. I make trips to the restroom to wet paper towels and put them on his face. His eyes are glazed and teary, his shakes come and go with consistency and we know there are no words we can offer to ease the searing pain he is enduring. The waitress is nonchalant, as she's seen this many times. The woman behind the bar keeps throwing milk at me when I ask. Snot trickles in streams from Zach's nose, but his focus seems entirely on respiration and keeping a constant stream of cooling liquid down his throat. We offer encouragements of “Champ” and “Big Guy” and “Badass”, but we see only glimmers of comprehension in his responses.
Zach: I can say with confidence – and no hyperbole – that I no longer fear death. This was pain unlike any I've ever experienced, including when I snapped my leg in half when I was 9. The physiological response to the spice was unprecedented: I actually went into shock. I lost feeling in the tips of my fingers. I couldn't speak, my eyes couldn't focus, and it was impossible for me to eat the wings any faster than I did. My body would not allow it. It was terrifying. I'm glad I did it; that said, I will never ever attempt anything like that ever again.
Now, baseball.
Now, baseball.
Zach was mobile, but his utility for the rest of the evening was compromised, so we did our best to get the ballpark. We show up in the parking lot right before first pitch, but cannot be admitted due to the reverence the attendants must show for God Bless America. Odd to have it here rather than the 7th inning stretch. Zach is already a bit grumpy for capsaicin-related reasons and proceeds to give the dashboard a piece of his mind. Eventually we park and enter.
Game Highlights: Jimmy Buffet Night. Not sure how this got kicked off, due to the late arrival, but Zach gets to wear his Hawaiian shirt again. Name that Song contests and a Kraft Cheeseburger in Paradise beanbag game highlight the entertainment.
General Admission Tickets: 7 bucks for anywhere in the uppermost section. They're really just Little League bleachers with chair backs oddly spaced throughout, but the price was right.
Big Crowd. Very amped up.
The Vendors: Allegedly have personalities, such as The King, the Punk Rocker, Peter Pan, and Last Call. The other vendors proved themselves useless when questioned why they had a word on their shirt spelled “FUNN”. An usher later suggested that it was just extra fun to spell it with 2 Ns. Fair enough.
Score:
Beer Price: 8.75 for a 32oz. 5.5 points
Most Caloric Item: Golden Gate Burger. 2 6 oz. Patties, Chili, Mozzerella Sticks, served with Fries. The entire "Extreme Menu" looked awesome. 7 points
Minor League Personalities: LL Teams, Families, Teenagers on (Group) Dates, Minor League Die Hard, 5 (bonus for the group date) points
Free Seats: 0 pts: BOOOOOOOOO!
Tailgatiing: Not sure. May have been an official pregame thing, since there were a bunch of kids, but we'll give a couple of points. 2 points
Funniest Roster Name: L J Hoes. “L J”? is that what kids are calling it these days? 6 points
Promotion Quality: Offered Jimmy Buffet Jerseys for auction and various small things. We didn't get anything free, but it was ok. 3 points
Diversity: 0 pts. Another whiteout.
Men's Room: 7 Urinals. BOOOOOOOOO. 4 Points.
Random Bonus Points: Parker the Rally Pig!!! Made a brief appearance on the Not-So-JumboTron in a still picture. It was underwhelming. In the bottom of the 9th, though, a real live pig made the rounds in the arms of a cheerleader. 5 points
Ground crew smoothed the field in housemaid outfits: 3 points
Vendor Characters: 2 points
Dancing Contest with a Toothbrush for a prize: 1 point
Special Shout out to First Aid Lady: Zach needed Maalox. She gave it to him. 1 point
Total: 44.5
Funny, my pain doctor just prescribed me some capsaicin cream to help with my foot pain...
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