Have you ever white knuckled the handles in a handicap stall while doing your best to recreate that wammy game show?  And Muffling your cries; “ no pepper no pepper no pepper”  If you had just been in a jalapeno eating contest this has most likely happened to you.  But rest assured, there are shitiots like me that will brave the burning inferno to do this and write about it so you will get all the filthy, burning colonic details.

While starting paragraphs with questions how about this.  Have you ever fallen asleep on a 757 and awoke to find your arm numb from the elbow down?  And then realize your great fortune for the almighty’s decision to set you up for a mile high phantom hand? Followed by mental rough calculations on how fast the blood flow will return vs. how long it will take the 80 year old couple to let you out of your window seat.

I have never done either of these things, I have heard from a friend of a friend that this happened to them.  Joey chestnut told me about this.

Is there much to be said about the effects of a jalapeno contest?  If you’ve made that trek to Mexico the familiar Montezuma will no doubt be sharpeed into your left lobe.  Montezuma’s 2nd cousin is la costena.  La costena’s revenge is a lot like Montezuma but it feels like a frat boy changed out all the royal papers with steel wool dipped in kerosene.  This may seem gross but is the best description.

I have a love hate relationship with pickled jalapenos.  I do not particularly enjoy them in everyday food as they’re too spicy and have no flavor.  But on a good competition day I love them.  The 3 parts that must work in unison to have a successful contest are your throat, jaws, and stomach.  When working together it is something Henry Ford could have based his famed assembly line.  It’s poetry and digestion in motion,   with a few hip shakes and awkward white boy wiggles lightly shaken and not stirred in. A majority of the jalapeno contest’s I’ve been lucky enough to experience this gurgitator assembly line during max production.

Hor-he Shea counted down from ten and the race began. For each plate the black widow was close behind, finishing within seconds.  There was no breathing room for a massive chestnut like slowdown.  A year of stewing over the prior year’s loss mixed with the perfect blend of caffeine, burger hangover, casein, and adrenaline set the ground work for what would be a great day of eating.  A loss to Sonya was not an option.

Around the 8 minute mark she cleared a plate before me and a mental switch was thrown.  My throat, jaws, and stomach were begging for a break and a bottle of pepto but I pushed to catch up.  With 30 seconds to go I knew it was close but would have to make one final push.  I ate 15 peppers in the last 30 seconds.  Awaiting the final count the outcome there was no clear indication of the winner.  The debris was equal and I was a few peppers ahead but George did not want to make a judgment call as it was damn close.

I have to call her out because she stuffed 2 peppers in her mouth after the buzzer.  I don’t want to be a sore winner but if these things are not pointed out then eaters will continue to do this and get away with it.  Sonya is very competitive and wants to win at all costs, and that’s part of the reason I love her.  Another eater that closely resembles sonya down right cheats and needs to be called out.  We all know who this is, she has been know to outright cheat.  One must question a person that would cheat in an eating contest.  I don’t care if she reads as she has gotten away with this shit for too long.  Whenever there is a new restrictive rule in response to your actions you can bet that you are an asshole and should be disciplined.  Being a small Asian woman has its media value but being a cheap substitute for Sonya will only get you so far.

Moving on from that rant, George ended up calling it a tie and an eat off 25 peppers was ordered.  It was very close, and it was called a draw once again.  When a 2nd eat off was called and Sonya fought the decision I knew I had her, it was close but my stomach handled it, had we needed to eat another 25 I would have been obliged.

Afterwards I roasted in the San Antonio sun warding off spouts of nausea, conducting interviews with pepper seeds migrating from every orifice. A quick trip was made to the Alamo, a new battle cry was born remember the aloe (coated toilet paper)!  Lots of pepto and milk shakes were consumed.  If a hippy fell into a spicy pickling brine, was sprayed in pink bismuth and John Goodman’s sweat you’d understand the symphony of noxious odor the surrounding passengers experienced.

In closing I stand by my grossly inappropriate tweet; “things to buy after jalapeno’s; depends, 8 rolls of toilet paper, sympathy cards for southwest clean up crew.”

God bless America and baby wipes!


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