Wings is more than just wings. It’s beer and wings.
For seven years it’s been beer and wings. With the exception of a few years of Sprite and wings. Monday Night Wings (dot com) has been a stone on the waterfront. A rock on the mountain. A hard thing on another hard thing that’s relatively impossible to move without the assist of a catastrophic meteor shower or the occasional pissed off girlfriend.
It’s been a purveyor of the Tuesday morning hangover and the miserable toilet bowl destruction of those who dare eat 10, 20, 40, even 56 wings. It’s been home to competitions of dramatic alcohol consumption. Competitions always won by team Good and lost by the cheating team Bad. Whoever that team may be.
Arguments have been made that Mondays are better than Fridays and have been met with little resistance. Timely rituals of timely arrival, the prompt ordering of Miller Lite, and the gorging of salty popcorn, coveted celery, and sometimes soupy, but mostly always most of the time amazing chicken wings.
We’ve seen members come and go for holidays, only to head home to their miserably sober Monday night existences. We’ve had sprinting relay races around the entire bar. Judged by shoeless drunkards and irritated bartenders. Even a Monday Night Wings (dot com) language of words, gestures, and signs has been adopted. Bang Bang, Knife, Flag, Sally ordered it, Soupy!, and See ya later everybody, a phrase muttered by those taking the B line to Pissville.
Monday Night Wings (dot com) is more than just soupy chicken wings and large, mostly unpaid for pitchers. It’s a tradition. A tradition worth fighting for. No matter the degree of pissed off girlfriend. No matter the size of impending meteoric doom. No matter the distance that separates you from the tradition you love. Wings will live on. By the founders. By the friends. And by the greasy latino cooks serving up their soupy greatness.
Some traditions are silly. Easter. Christmas. Valentine’s Day. But Wings lives beyond all the other shallow stays of humanity. Because Wings is more than just tradition. It’s all of humanity. It’s that good. More good than all of humanity. Combined.
So let flourish the legacy of Monday Night Wings (dot com) and pump down that Miller Lite. Because goddammit, it’s Monday.
And goddammit. It’s almost Monday Night Wings Football season.
Cheers.
Joey B.
Member Emeritus
