Slaw Vom

Life is funny sometimes.

Like sometime you’ll get a call from your old boss and he’ll ask you to cover a chilli cook-off on Saturday after you get off work. Chilli’s cool and you could always use the money. So of course you accept. What you don’t know is that the chilli is long gone by 12pm and you’re off work at 2. You find that out of course when you get there and there is no chilli to be found.

You wander around thinking that maybe you just missed it. Kind of freaking out because you realize you’re not getting paid if you don’t come back with any pictures and since you don’t have any groceries, you need to come back with some damn pictures.

You walk and walk and walk. Nothing. So you finally decide to ask those prissy volunteers in under the tent who actually turn out to be really nice people.

They hand you a pamphlet. It’s a schedule of events for the rest of the day. You see one event on there that your boss mentioned in passing and said might be interesting.

So you call your boss.

“Hey [boss]! The chilli’s gone, long gone, so that’s not going to happen but that slaw eating competition you talked about is happening in an hour or so I’ll cover that just because maybe that’s something, right?”

So you schooch your way past hippies and bluegrass aficionados, up to the front of the stage where two tables are being prepared for this display of human prowess. You somehow plant yourself in front of a middle-aged mom who’s trying to take pictures of the band and everything on the stage with her blackberry camera and an older man sitting in a lawn chair that apparently doesn’t have a weight limit.

The tables are set up. The tubs of cole slaw are placed in front of the competitors and as you draw your eye to the viewfinder of your camera, you realize that you’re about to see something you’re bound to retell in dark bars with friends until the day you die…

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