Tracyville

Why do I like wings?

Wings are the nastiest part of the chicken. I used to think they were gross. All those rubbery and stringy parts. But sometime over the past winter, I started liking them. I blame broomball: There’s something about running around the ice at night wielding a blunt object and then going inside and tearing apart a small piece of chicken with your teeth and hands that just goes together like peanut butter and chocolate. Now, when I go to the bar after the game every Tuesday, what’s there waiting for me? Wings. Ew! But delicious!