Chicken wings and where they lead you.

Today I went to this fine metropolis, El Paso, Texas:



This is actually a highly romanticized image of the city, which I found on the internet. The place actually looks like this photo, which I also found on the internet:



Isn't that a lot of brown for one city?

I went there for business, not for chicken wings, and had a very pleasant and productive day despite the fact that I was in a town that looks like Santa Fe after it had its beauty surgically removed. El Paso also happens to be the site of one of the most spectacularly disappointing dates I have ever had, but that is a story for another day.

For some reason, I heard people mention hot wings many times today, enough times that I started to really want to eat hot wings for dinner. I have been trying to limit the amount of meat in my diet and, thus, don't eat wings very often. But boy, did they sound good by the time I arrived home this evening, famished from trying my very first-ever Sodokhu puzzle on the plane. I thought I knew of a wing place that was on the way home, but when I got there, I found only this:



Yes, it's a "Cowboy Chicken." Upon investigation (meaning that I asked the guy at the counter a question), I determined that this place once was the wing place about which I had fond memories. But, surprisingly, they no longer offer hot wings. Does that seem odd to you, for a place that specializes in chicken to not offer hot wings, which are one of the best-known chicken dishes? It seemed odd to me, too.

But I was there, and I was too tired to continue my search for wings. So I ordered a barbeque chicken sandwich, which seemed like it would be similar but really wasn't. While I basked in the warmth of the rotisserie spit (which is located close to a tall wooden bar where one can eat, or read the newspaper while one waits to eat--I did the later), I noticed something else about this place: only men eat there. I was the lone female in the entire place, among approximately 10 other customers, except for one other woman, who was there with a guy. So, if you're a single girl in Dallas and don't know where to meet men, may I suggest Cowboy Chicken on Greenville Avenue. The sheer novelty of being the lone chick in the place (no pun intended) will draw more attention to you than any Greenville Avenue bar. And that's my service deed for the day . . . .

UPDATE: Lest you think I'm imagining this wing thing, LOOK, here's ANOTHER wing reference!