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AJC.com > Metro > View from the cop > Archives > 2009 > January > 22 > Entry
When the chili gods speak, you’ll listen
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Nothing says fun like driving eight hours to Cincinnati on a Friday and then back on a Sunday—in with the winter storms chasing you.
Why? Surprise birthday party for Detective Sandy’s dad, and the fact the whole thing was taking place in a bar. Seemed like a good idea at the time.
Arriving at Detective Sandy’s grandmother’s house around midnight, we slept for a bit and then it was up and at ‘em.
BBy 2 p.m. we were at Gold Star Chili where Sandy praised the chili gods and ordered everything on page one. She really likes Gold Star, as do I, but she takes it to a new and not necessarily healthy level. She thanked the staff, had pictures made with them, put some chili in her scrap book, chanted something about the upcoming kidney bean crop and then, just as she began to speak in tongue, we drug her out and drove to the hotel on the other side of town where we checked in and waited for the party. Sandy spent the time reciting the Gold Star menu she swiped from the restaurant and I thumbed through the Yellow Pages under “Psychological Counseling.”
By 7 p.m. we gathered with other members of the family at one of the local pubs her dad frequents and waited for him to arrive.
While we waited, we began to partake in the sprits and eatables consisting of a variety of bar foods. For some reason, the term “Nuclear” seemed appetizing so I ordered things like “Nuclear Wings” and “Nuclear Jalapeno Mushrooms” and “Nuclear Sauce for Nuclear Wings and Jalapeno Mushrooms.” I should have known it was too hot when the server looked at me, sadly, as if to say “goodbye.”
Not to worry! We Nuked-Out for a while and then headed for the Karaoke stage. I discovered that even in a nuclear state, we couldn’t sing—or, as we found out a short time later, dance.
Well, our arms were flying all around and heads were bouncing left and right and none of it to any rhythm to the music. My zig and my zag were so out of whack I looked like Joe Cocker being tasered.
We enjoyed the evening, seeing folks we hadn’t in a while and eating nuclear food.
The next morning we met for breakfast before heading back to Ball Ground, Georgia.
It was here where the trouble began.
Somewhere between the third cup of coffee and the second sausage patty I began to hear rumblings of, let’s say, an awakening of a potentially nuclear nature. I had concerns about my ability to effectively navigate an eight-hour drive in such condition. Detective Sandy, oblivious to my flushed face, increased perspiration, and disturbing sounds coming from my stomach, began to plan our next trip to Gold Star Chili. The most southern location for Gold Star Chili on I-75 going south is in Lexington, KY at the Man O’ War Boulevard. She was so excited, calling ahead and introducing herself to the staff.
The weather was calling for some snow showers.
From Cincinnati to Lexington, we made a total of about 64 stops of nuclear proportions, visiting every gas station-store bathroom along the way. At one point I felt so combustible that I ordered people not to smoke as I awkwardly did that run-walk thing to the bathroom.
I was running and sweating and the truckers were swatting dream catchers all over the parking lot. Detective Sandy somehow interpreted this as some sort of pre Gold-Star ritual so she jumped out of the truck and started dancing around in little circles, babbling something about the Gods of the Coney Dogs. The whole thing looked like a badly choreographed version of West Side Story.
Eventually, slowly, but eventually, I started to feel like I might actually survive. I stopped pulling over at every exit and eventually made it out of Kentucky.
It was at that very moment, the moment when the pain was going away, when I realized that I wasn’t going to die, when I realized that I would someday eat again, I raised my hands in the air and closed my eyes and began to sing because I felt good—but not good enough for Gold Star. I’m fairly certain that Detective Sandy will someday speak to me again and never will I eat anything labeled “Nuclear” the night before travel day.
Please, learn from this experience. I did.
Comments
By Cassie
January 22, 2009 1:17 PM | Link to this
I have to say it: Goldstar chili on spaghetti noodles was my favoritest thing ever.
Actually, I scraped the chili off and ate the noodles.
By Snoopy
January 23, 2009 7:43 AM | Link to this
Excellent column today!!! But now I’m hungry for chili and I think I might have to go to the bathroom…
By Big Al
January 23, 2009 7:59 AM | Link to this
That could be the funniest thing you have written. I loved it. Of course I know that funny run/walk feeling myself. Keep up the interesting articles. You are one bring spot in a diminishing newspaper.
By Patrick
January 23, 2009 8:10 AM | Link to this
Funny that I read this today. A couple of days ago my dad made a big pot of chili. I’ve always loved his chili. Topped with cheddar cheese and crackers, or when I used to make it, I would make up a pan of cornbread, cut out a piece, butter it up real good, top with chili and cheese, then pop it in the microwave for 20 seconds to melt the cheese.
pauses while everyone goes to get a new keyboard after ruining their current one with drool
Last night we had Frito Chili Pie, made with the chili-cheese-flavored Fritos.
By the way Steve, it’s pronounced “Nu-cu-lar.”
By gadyke
January 23, 2009 9:13 AM | Link to this
Thanks for the laugh Lt. Steve!
By Drew
January 23, 2009 10:39 AM | Link to this
That Joe Cocker line is an instant classic - hilarious! Glad you made it back to Georgia.
By ATC
January 23, 2009 3:58 PM | Link to this
Steve, Immodium AD really does work. Even the store brands do, too.
By Chris Broe
January 24, 2009 8:25 AM | Link to this
LOL great fun.
Scientests have theorized for generations what would happen if all the major food groups were ever combined with all three states of matter: solid, liquid, and gas.
Isn’t that what killed Curly?
By mrj
January 24, 2009 10:14 AM | Link to this
Det Steve, love the column. Gotta point out, though you MUST know, that the Eastgate Area of CIN holds it all. GoldStar AND Skyline Chili, plus a Cheeseburger In Paradise Establishment…. good times…
By Texan Interrupted.
January 24, 2009 2:02 PM | Link to this
What sin did Steve Rose commit? He violated the porcelain god’s greatest commandment: Thou shalt not have chili gods before me.
Worship the porcelain god. (That and an apple a day will keep the doctor away).
By The Truth about Steve
January 26, 2009 1:16 AM | Link to this
I drove to Cincinnatti.
I ate some chili.
It made me have to go dooty.
I drove back.
Can I write for the ajc too now?
Did that first comment really feature the word “favoritest”? Surely that individual isn’t dumb enough to think that’s a word.
Really, just captivating stuff here.
By PinkoNeoConLibertarian
January 26, 2009 10:00 AM | Link to this
I’m confused…you write about chili but you mention beans??!!
OHHH…now I see…It’s in Cincinnati. Cincinnati Chili?? Well, I guess both words do start with the letter “C”. :)
Except for that flagrant violation of chili etiquette, an excellent warning to all about the dangers of nuclear proliferation. There’s a reason it is termed Mutual Assured Destruction (MAD). LOL.
By Mike Helms
January 27, 2009 6:35 AM | Link to this
looked like Joe Cocker being tapered I’m saving these up in case you ever pull me over for some minor infraction, 1st I’ll act like looked like Joe Cocker being tasered then I’ll call myself a Homo moronous duffis. How could you write me up for brake light out after that I believe I should deserve a warning only.