This memory goes way back. Okay I confess, it’s doesn’t even go THAT far back (I was a young adult) which I’m embarrassed to admit. 17 years of age to be exact, a teen who:
A) shouldn’t be throwing tantrums…over chicken
B) crying because I did’t get my way
But I did both these things; shameful I know. I’ve told so many people this story and it increasingly becomes less pathetic and funnier as time passes.
I wasn’t an angst-filled teen, I was, and still am, close with my parents and sibs, but when my cravings for rotisserie chicken kick up, I turn into a foaming mouth salivating pig beast, looking to sink my teeth into a chicken on a spit.
When I was in high school, I had the habit of asking my parents during the day what dinner that night was going to be, so I had something to look forward to. Come to think of it, I still do this almost every Sunday before I go to my ma and pa’s for dinner. So I texted my dad, praying dinner that night would be one of my top three favorite meals – rotisserie chicken with gravy, lasagna, or steak.
My father texted back and my eyes lit up; “I’m picking up two Safeway rotisserie chickens.” I was over the moon!
The last three hours of class didn’t even matter, I couldn’t stop thinking about these chickens and how great the salty crisp skin was going to taste. Will I go for a leg and wing or just a leg? Oh the decisions!
I ran home like Usain Bolt that day, it helped that I only lived 7 minutes from the school but still, I sprinted. When I got home and opened the door, I lifted my nose to take in the wonderful aroma of rotisserie chicken, but my nose wasn’t picking up any whiffs. Why couldn’t I smell the chicken?
I walked into the kitchen with a nervous desperation and took one look at my dad. He said “sorry kiddo, Safeway was out of chickens.” My vision blurred, my left eye twitched and words just spewed out of my mouth. I was angry, and not rightfully so. I screamed and started to cry, my mom told me to go to my room to think about my behaviour. And that’s just what I did. I sulked in my room for approximately an hour. At the time I didn’t understand how silly this all was, but I look back as an older and wiser chicken lover and I would have said the same thing to my 17 year old self that my mother did.
Little did I know, because I didn’t let my dad get a word in edgewise during my rant, he picked up two chickens to cook himself on the BBQ.