SCHLIEFKEVISION IN KANSAS:

Corey and I both felt an air of excitement, and as we pulled up to 17th and Brooklyn, the smell of the beef overcame us both and we giddily entered and found our way back into the end of the line.  After finding a couple of clean plates, I made the decision to skip the burnt ends (my last two visits went that route) and went down the traditional beef sandwich route. 

After picking up some take home sauce, I found the closest table and started pouring out more sauce.  My mind was going through the cumulative experiences of my past at Arthur Bryant's - go easy on the drink, slow down on the fries, sauce is king, and as that first bite of beef hit my taste buds, I knew I was in heaven again. 

The first half of the BBQ went down easily, Corey plugged away at his burnt ends, and I excitedly started to think today was different - after countless visits that shamefully ended carrying out the remains in a doggie bag, I wanted to become a major league player, and this was my moment, I could feel it.  No sooner did those thoughts start to permeate my mind did I begin to feel that unique pressure of beef intoxication begin to cripple my digestive track and slowly build throughout my body.

I kept telling Corey I was close, close... But in the back of my mind I was beginning to consider the very real possibility of being close to throwing up, yet, the BBQ and fries on my plate kept harkening me back to the task at hand.  It was at this point a fly suddenly dropped from the sky and died unceremoniously on the table between our two plates.  Corey deduced it was probably a heart attack, and as I cleaned my palette with a sip of red cream soda, the fly fluttered its wings one last time. 

Corey was beginning to look worse for the wear, beef intoxication overtaking his soul at the very moment I declared I had a second wind and proceeded to finish off another couple bites and a few more fries.  Suddenly, I realized I was going to finish my plate, even as I had a good fourth to finish, I was astonished, yet still hurting.  And then, as if I willed myself from the beyond, my body stopped hurting, and I finished off my last fries, and my body, having gone though a dangerous level of heavenly food poisoning, all of a sudden felt fine. 

And I finished with a furious frenzy, popping the final french fries into my mouth and then I literally licked a line down the center of my plate, and Corey and I left soon after that, both surprisingly feeling fine, able to walk, and almost tempted to give Arthur Bryant's another run, as the smells that hung in the air outside the parking lot nearly drew us in again.