Whatever You Do - Don't Eat the Chicken From Under the Heat Lamps

I'm alone, finishing up a week long holiday to Las Vegas and now, I'm driving up highway #95 from Las Vegas to Reno. This was before gambling became legal here in Canada, back in the late 80's. I had two days of fun in Vegas (at the time my idea of fun was sitting in front of a "One Armed Bandit" for hours on end) and was going to hit Reno before leaving Nevada completely and driving back to Canada. I left Vegas early.

It was hot that day as most days are in Southern Nevada, in Vegas. I was driving a pick-up truck and like I said, "I was alone." I had underestimated the distance. It took a little longer than I expected.

The drive was boring, and I didn't have air-conditioning. Half-way between points I needed gas.  I think it was in a place called Tonopah, the junction of Highway #6. I stopped at a gas station when I came to the three corner stop in the middle of the desert. 

A big gas centre, restaurant, laundry everything, if my memory serves me right.

They had a store there where you paid for your gas, so I went in to see what I could find to munch on. I passed on all the chips and candy deciding on three, big juicy chicken breasts sitting under hot lights at the counter, waiting for me to buy them. There were four but I didn't want to look like a glutton, so I only got three.

After paying I took them out to the truck to devour them. They were the most tasty pieces of deep fried chicken I had ever tasted, I had to fight myself not to go back in and get the last piece. Of course I lost, I went back in and bought it. I devoured that piece also. It was so tasty and the Colonel had nothing to do with it. Feeling full, I carried on driving north.

I eventually got to Reno, it was early evening.

By nine o'clock as I was sitting at a slot machine, I could hear my stomach growling.

By ten o'clock I was out in the parking lot, barfing my guts out.

By eleven o'clock I was sitting in the truck, opening the door, barfing every minute. I was feeling dizzy.

By twelve I had passed out.

I woke up in the morning. Still barfing. I was sicker than a dog, and it six o'clock in the morning.

I passed out again, and woke up around eleven, still barfing.

I decided to get a motel room. It took all I had, to walk up to the desk and get a room, without barfing.  Once I was in the room, I ran to the washroom,  more barf, diarrha. All liquid. I was becoming dehydrated. I drank and drank, mouth to tap. I was so thirsty.  

After getting into bed, I passed out into a semi-conscious state or what I call delirium.  I cared about nothing.  I just laid there helpless, in and out of consciousness.  Coming around every so often to get up and go into the washroom and barf more liquids.  I have never in my life been more sick. I thought I was going to die. I was sicker than a dog.

Anyway, I survived.  I left the next morning. The whole episode ruined my trip. 

So, if you ever see chicken sitting under heat lamps in one of these gas station convenience stores, please. 

Whatever You Do - Don't Eat the Chicken From Under the Heat Lamps

Dog Brindle


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