Oh Canada! Thursday: Shuffle off to Buffalo

Amongst all the confusion of visiting this cousin and that cousin, I somehow ended up missing the ride to the next destination. I looked at the railroad map and realized that we were all supposed to meet up eventually in Niagara Falls, so why didn’t I just take a little side trip to Buffalo for some hot wings?

The train trip wasn’t that long, but they kept us at the border forever, so I managed to read an entire book on the way. Luckily I had packed up some of the fruit and cheese I’d bought from the markets, so I had a nice picnic instead of microwaved train burgers.

A Scottish couple sitting behind me bitched the entire way about every little thing. You can even hear them quietly bitching in the background of a video I took of the bridge.

I rented an SUV with GPS in Buffalo and almost immediately started talking back to the disembodied voice. The Courtyard by Marriott I’d booked was right by the freeway (damn you, google maps!). The room was spartan compared to the Westin, but it was comfortable and had these groovy lamps.

The view from my room:

I went for a drive and passed a cemetery. They aren’t set apart and surrounded by hedges and walls like they are here. There is a block of houses, then a block of gravestones, then another block of houses. It’s like every vacant lot has been turned into a little cemetery.

I stopped in at Wegman’s for supplies. I love Wegman’s; they even had Purple Haze cheese.

For dinner I hit Duff’s. Even though hot wings were invented at The Anchor Bar, Duff’s has a reputation for serving the best wings in Buffalo. The room was crowded and raucus. Teenage boys videotaped each other in hot wing eating contests for YouTube.

The floor looked clean, but was really slippery. I shuffled over to a waitress and asked why it was so slippery. Without missing a beat, she shrugged and replied, “Chicken grease.”

The menu warns:

Medium is HOT

Medium Hot is VERY HOT

Hot is VERY VERY HOT

I ordered ten Medium wings to fill me up and 10 Hot wings for the adventure. I ordered a side of milk, which is my secret weapon for eating spicy food.

The medium wings were incindiary. I moved on to the hot, and wasn’t that impressed. I guess it’s like getting punched in the face. The difference between getting punched really hard and getting punched really, really hard isn’t that noticable.

I found myself longing for Bob’s hot wings. He cuts the heat with lemon and gives them a final pass in the broiler to fuse the sauce onto the wings. It’s funny how you have to travel so far only to discover that what you were looking for was right there at home all along.

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