I went to Wild Wing Cafe when they first opened to watch my Valentine’s Day segment on ESPNU and the Virginia Tech basketball game that immediately followed. After 20 minutes, they put the television at our table on the U, but sans the volume – I was ok with not having to hear my own voice that sounds to me like a raspy 12-year-old phone sex operator, but I wanted to hear the game. Which brought me to the conclusion that just like restaurants which have smoking and non-smoking sections, sports bars should have game volume and music sections.
My favorite food is anything smothered in buffalo sauce — so one would think that I would recommend Wild Wings menu with 33 variations of wings ... not so much. I ordered a buffalo chicken salad but something else came out ... so I just sent it back. Then a girl came out from the kitchen, whom I assume was on her period because she barked at me, “Do you want a to-go box for this? Because I can’t re-sell it so I’m still going to have to charge you for it.” W… T…. F….?
We were a table of 10 watching one little TV for the VT game while most everyone else was there for the UNC game that came on after. There was a minute left of the VT game, Georgia Tech and VT were tied — and even though it was still 45 minutes before the UNC game started... they changed our channel! By the time they changed it back, the game was over.
I just looked at my fellow Hokies and said: “This is what we get for not going to Blackfinn.”
Last night, I was craving buffalo and beer, so I decided to give Wild Wings another chance. I figured if the NFL is considering giving Michael Vick a chance, why not? But just like Vick should stick to being the “Stop-Slow” guy at construction sites ... Wild Wing Cafe still sucks.
They sat us at the bar because they were the only seats available and there was a band playing hard rock songs. It was a great band — if I were at Amos’ or somewhere head-banging ... not sitting down trying to have dinner with a side of conversation. Our food came out impressively quick, but it got cold before anyone brought us silverware to eat it.
Meanwhile, the thermostat was set on hell; on top of the hot wings it was so miserably hot I started sweating profusely and even felt sick. I just paid my over-priced bill and went down to Strike City to watch the rest of the game, in the air conditioning ... all hail King James.
And for the record, I think the wings are better at Buffalo Wild Wings.