The Burnt Chicken Episode

Whenever I go to a bar/restaurant, I usually sit up at the actual bar as opposed to sitting at a table. I like to chat with the other folks at the bar. I generally like people and usually enjoy the conversations that ultimately ensue. However, sometimes things sometimes spin in an strange direction.

Case in point, yesterday I found myself sitting in one of my favorite local watering holes. There was a really good band playing out on the dock and the place was pretty crowded. Wanting to get out of the heat, I ventured inside and found a spot at the bar. I ordered a beer and a jerk chicken appetizer. I happen to really like the way the cook, who I know personally, prepares this particular item. So, as I'm served my food, a guy sitting to the left of me starts staring at my plate like it's a circus animal. He was starting to make me feel a bit uncomfortable, so to disrupt his concentration, I say, "Hey, how's it going?"

Momentarily, he takes his eyes off of my plate and says, "Your food looks burnt."

I assure him that's it's not, but he persists, "But it looks burnt."

Figuring this guy just wants to argue, I let it go and resumed eating. I barely get another bite when the guy asks,"So, what is it?"

With a mouthful of food, I manage to mumble, "What is what?"

"The stuff that looks like burnt food on your plate", he responds.

I say, "It's jerk chicken. I get it here all the time. Trust me, it's not burnt."

The guy, who I assumed watched way too many Columbo reruns, hammers away by asking, "So, why does it look burnt? It's all black."

Oh, Lord! Of all of the seats in the place, I have to pick the one next to a wannabe detective with a case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I patiently put down my eating utensils and explain nice and slowly, "The chicken looks black, or burnt as you like to say, because it's seasoned with pepper and other spices. It's very good and I assure you that it is not burnt."

Then, I take a swig of my Landshark and go back to eating. Amazingly, the guy still won't let it go. As if a lightbulb suddenly went off in his head, he says, "You really seem to like it. I guess if it was burnt, you wouldn't be eating like that, huh?"

"That's a very good assumption, my friend.", I say without even looking up from my plate.

He responds, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

I should have just ignored him, but his comments were like a fly buzzing past your ear when you're trying to sleep. So, in a final attempt to defend the honor of my jerk chicken, I say, "It's not burnt. For f*ck sake, dude. Can we just leave it at that?"

After an extended pause, he says, "Yeah, if it was burnt, you probably wouldn't be eating it like that."

At this point, I felt like stabbing him with my fork. In an effort to escape this madness, I almost ordered a triple shot of Jim Beam. But I decided against it, figuring that it would only provoke more comments from Mr. Congeniality.

Seriously, it was like sitting next to Slingblade. I started to get a little nervous as I envisioned this guy cracking me in the back of the skull with a lawn mower blade. For this reason, I kept him in my peripheral vision. He made a few more comments about my "burnt" chicken but I just ignored him. Then I overheard him asking the bartender for a special Chardonnay. This brought an instant "WTF look" from the bartender. When he informed the guy that he didn't have the Chardonnay, the burnt chicken guy said, "Ok, I'll just have a white Zinfandel."

I found this to be almost as odd as his fascination with my chicken. For those that don't know, white Zinfandel is like the Pabst Blue Ribbon of wines. To see him go from a fine Chardonnay to this was a bit peculiar but I guess it went along with his overall personality. Additionally, I don't think I've ever seen a guy order a glass of white Zinf before. Strangely enough, my perception of the guy quickly shifted from Slingblade to John Wayne Gacy. Not really an improvement....

I quickly finished up my plate of food and headed back outside. The area was filled with bikers, drunk people dancing to Led Zeppelin, an enthusiastic girl who flashed her tits at the band, a guy who had enough tattoos to make a carnival act jealous and at least one middle-aged woman with shorts that were small enough to fit a Barbie doll. It was good to finally be back with the normal folks.....

kw