There are few things more American – more patriotic – than chicken wings, attractive waitresses, and beer.
I defy you to think of a more American combination.
Maybe I’m low-balling it a little. Sure, Mt Rushmore is pretty rad, and if you’ve ever seen a bald eagle they’re cool I guess, but bald eagles cannot get you drunk and give you a boner at the same time. I heard they once experimented with this, but I digress.
So after 24 years on this planet and 14 years of living in the good ol’ US of A, I decided to bite the bullet and become a full blown citizen. The test was damn easy. I think the questions had something to do with the colors of the American flag which is ironic because I’m partially colorblind in one eye due to an incident with a high powered lazer (a true story best saved for another article). The asian gentleman asking me these questions asked me if I was a terrorist. I briefly wondered what would have happened if I had answered “yes, and WHAT a terrorist”. After receiving my invitation to be sworn in as an american citizen via bulk 2nd class mail, it was nearly a month until I actually got sworn in. I waited anxiously.
Finally the day was upon me. I had a brilliant idea. Literally three blocks away from the ceremony was a branch of the well-known chain restaurant ‘Hooters’. What could be more patriotic than having my first meal as a red-blooded American Fucking Citizen be pain-inducingly spicy chicken wings washed down with a pint of Budweiser?
The ceremony itself was dire. I was sadder than a midget at a ladder store. George W Bush said something on a video and someone booed. I began texting girls “yo girl i b a ctzn wanna hang?”, to no avail. The only source of visual humor was the french lady infront of me’s haircut, and the fact that in the “List Of Great Americans Immigrants” they listed Jane Seymour (of Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman) directly after Einstein. You can not make this shit up.
After the ceremony I made a beeline for the Hooters restaurant. I entered the door and took a seat at the bar. The manager approached me, immediately identifying me as a member of the media (due to the typewriter I was carrying). He asked me what I was doing. I said I was writing an article on Americana. I was also equipped with a small, 3×5 American flag and a pamphlet with the words “So Now You Are An American” on it. He nodded to me, then to waitress, and then to the waitress, who without forewarning poured a Budweiser into a glass.
**
The waitresses were (obviously) very friendly. I asked a brunette named Tammy “So, what do you think it means to be an American?” and the best answer I got was thirteen seconds of silent pondering before a half-whisper: “Y’know, I’ve never really been outside of California”. It dawned on me that she may not have been the most ideal candidate for such a momentous and brilliant article such as this one. Perhaps the young lady who was to serve me my “911 Super Spicy” Hot Wings and Happy Hour Crabs Legs? She provided a much better interviewee:
“I think we’re spoiled in America,” she said, “We have everything here”.
She was totally correct. This is a land of everything: Beer, Breasts, 911 Hot Sauce and Happy Hour Crabs Legs. All available in once place. Like a cornucopia of male happiness. No wonder this country was settled by puritans. They just wanted a place to do this in private; not knowing the country spread on for 3000 miles. Could that just be the case? Can breasts actually equal democracy?
She continued “I mean, do you think any other country could really have such a place like Hooters? Oh… hey, do you need a wet nap?”.
I was starting to wonder why in such a truthful answer she’d bring up Wet Naps but then I realized my fingers were covered in hot sauce and chicken grease. Perhaps this was a brilliant analogy placed into my lap by God, Jesus, and Barack Obama themselves. Perhaps in search of the truth behind the American Dream we’d just gotten sidetracked by chicken wings and buxom waitresses. Or perhaps thats what it meant all along: the freedom of not just PURSUING happiness but also just BEING happy.
Or perhaps I should drink another beer and think about it some more.
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