So Ryan (SSuperchargedEi) and Twister97 and I are sitting in Quaker Steak and Lube on my last trip to Pitt. We FINALLY got those turds to eat some SERIOUS hot wings by working our way up the thermometer menu. My business partner, Cary (guy, not girl) and I are chowing the hot ones.
When we get done with the suicide wings and move to the Atomic wings (medical release must be signed first), the waitresses are wondering where the hell we're from.
So Ryan takes a bite of the Atomic wing. Not bad. He'* not a hot-food kinda guy. He chooses not to go further. This is fine too.
But then he needs to urinate. Mass quantities of beer have overloaded the bladder. Ryan is clearly warned by Cary and I, the hot-food experts, to carefully wash hands before handling Mr. PeePee.
Ryan comes back from the can. Within seconds, he'* squirming in pain. Mr. Admin graciously volunteers the following deal:
Allow Mr. Admin to guard the door to the peepee room while Ryan 'gets some relief at the sink', or suffer the embarassment of the 'wing story' in public.
Mr. SSuperchargedEi declined the offer.
And so you have your story.