It was Saturday, March 7th. My son’s foundation, Yellow Brick Road, (cheap plug, but check us out!) had a booth at the Orlando Chili Cook-off. This year was our 4th year competing, and we were hot, having walked off with a trophy last year. I typically try to stick close to our table, slinging ungodly amounts of chili, while promoting our cause. It’s a very effective way to build our foundation’s name and simultaneously wreck the gastrointestinal system of a couple thousand bystanders.
This year? For some reason my friend Clay and I decided to wander the landscape and check out our competition. That moment of zen would change our day, and perhaps our lives, with a story that will fill our drunken bar playlist forever. We were just standing out in the open when we were greeted by a gentleman sporting a foreign accent an a straw boaters hat. His question was simple. Would we’d like to compete in a chili eating contest against THE Joey Chestnut and a couple other professional eaters. No thoughts given. I’m in. I don’t care if I’m not hungry, or struggle to eat a second plate at a Golden Corral, this was going to be for pure unbridled glory. Where do we go? 
He walked us behind the stage and handed us 2 waivers and couple shirts. I immediately tossed my law degree in the gutter and and just signed. WHO CARES. TAKE MY SIGNATURE. SHOULD I CROAK, MOUNT MY HEAD ON MY WIFE’S WALL. I’M ALL IN.
We were then taken to a staging area, where our opponents were warming up while Clay and I discussed the upset of the century. It was going to take a lot, but we were unrealistically convinced we could hang for at least 3 of the 6 minutes that we were required to eat. Our opponents approached us and asked about our story and where we think we stood in the competition.
“Fifth place gets $100,” one of the female competitors, Miko Sudo, said.
There were five professionals by our count…Clearly, we were simple jobbers.
It was at that time Joey Chestnut entered the scene. The world’s greatest eater. You could see it in his face. He was mentally preparing to try and best his previous chili record of 2.15 gallons of chili, but that still didn’t stop him from posing for photos with fans who waited outside the gate. Truly, a man of the people.
The time for gazing was over. The guy in the straw hat came bursting back in the scene. “Ready?!” He shouted while making a swift move up onto the stage to begin a 4-5 minute hype to the crowd of about 1000 people who were shoving themselves close to the stage.
We both decided we have to come in hot with our introductions. This was our moment in the sun, we have to look as cool as we think we are (despite being two guys dressed in a heart suit and as the Tin Man). As my name was announced I did everything I could to be a total, but fun jay-hole as a ran to my spot on the line (see video here…IMG_8873). Clay, on the other hand took the Andre the Giant approach. Solemn. Ready. A simple blessing of the chili with two hands hovering slightly above the brim of the bowls. We stood staring at the bowls in front of us while the others entered the stage. Not surprisingly, neither of us got the pop of Joey Chestnut. The crowd ate up his presence with the vigor of his eating skills. So it began…
I actually got the first bowl down pretty quickly. It seemed so easy because the chili itself was watered down to prevent aspiration and/or and untimely death. The product tasted like watery Spaghettios, which is funny, because it’s hard to imagine those canned bad boys being more hydrated than they already are. 
It was that second bowl that gassed me. Three or four bites in I felt it all shift to my colon. I couldn’t breathe, and any breath that I struggled for felt like a block of chili was yanking it back in. My esophagus was starting to fill. There was not going to be a David and Goliath moment here. The dream was dead. Joey Chestnut was working on bowl 7 or 8 and I was teaspooning through bowl number two. Regardless, the six minutes went fast, and before we knew it, we were done gorging, and now letting our bodies adjust to shock we just supplied it.
We all posed for what could best be described as the most painful group photo ever, which is below, thanks to BrionPrice.com (I ordered my prints, for the mantle). I just needed to go sit and think about what I just did. The meat sweats carried on for the remainder of the evening and well into the night. My precious sleep cycle was broken. Any movement was met with the stark reality that I had stepped well out of my comfort zone. Do I regret it? Absolutely not. I live to do stupid stuff like this and they even gave props to the foundation as part of our participation (someone had to explain the outfits). I might not be a Major League Eater, but for one day, I tried to hang…Toe to toe…with Joey Chestnut. 
Check the results…
Your @ORLChiliCookoff results. All in 32oz bowls. 1 Joey 8.75. 2. Miki 7.25. 3 Erik The Red 5.5. 4 Ms Lesco 4.75. 5. Badlands. 4.5 — Major League Eating (@eatingcontest) March 7, 2015
More @ORLChiliCookoff 6. Mr Robert Palmer and Mr Tray 1. 8. Mr Clay 0.5. Thanks to all @ORLChiliCookoff — Major League Eating (@eatingcontest) March 7, 2015
To Learn more about Yellow Brick Road: The Holden Flynn Foundation, go to YBRF.org, or Follow the Yellow Brick Road on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. 