My Friend Pat, Hot Dog Eating Champion of the World

“I don’t think we should go in there,” he said.

“These are supposed to be some of the best wings in Chicago. I don’t think we can skip it,” I said.

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel good about it.”

“No way, man. I made a list and my editor expects this. We gotta do it.”

He slumped his shoulders, shook his head, and said, “Ok. Fine. But this is gonna be weird.”