Predictably I woke on the hour every hour from 5AM. I forced myself back to sleep until it was necessary to arise around eight-thirty. After the leakages yesterday I opted to omit breakfast deciding instead to let the chilli form my morning sustenance. Once more I arrived at the venue far too early finding myself sitting in the warm sunshine until it was time for the judges briefing. This could not have been more different from the burger judging. Where yesterday the atmosphere had been jovial and light with playful banter and comments throughout the judging process the chilli category team leaders were deadly serious.
They outlined the rules and regulations and reiterated that they would be enforced with, ‘zero tolerance, shock and awe ‘ or something similar. I had discovered that the Wiston hotel had the most powerful Wi-fi transmission known to modern science, managing to surf from across the six lane highway and in the middle of the vast parking lot set aside for the event. I was somewhat aggrieved when the announcement came for the chilli (they spell it chili, can’t afford the consonants Carol?) judges to assemble at the tent. I handed in my precious laptop bag and stood poised with my spoon, silent and deadly at my allocated table. My fellow judges were similarly poised and ready, eight judges to take on seven chillis (sounds like a line from the Lord of the Rings, nah does it bollocks).
When were given the go ahead there was definite reticence to be the first to dive in, I was not surprised after the militant approach to the rules. After the second urging we dived in. Unfortunately the first one I tried was the best, a squid chilli more reminiscent of a green Thai curry, it was amazing. Unfortunately there were no recipe cards required for this category so I couldn’t crib ( I did take photos of all the recipe cards during the burger judging). Slowly we rotated counter-clockwise round the table tasting all the chillies, a nice touch was that there were bowls of sour cream set around the table to refresh the palate, it really works. My inability to withstand spicy food is legendary, well it’s not really but I like to think it is, and as such I was concerned that in a competition where chillies were taken very seriously indeed I would not be able to pull my weight. I need not have worried as one of the firm rules was that there were not to be any ‘painful’ experiences. All of the chillies I tasted were excellent, especially the squid one, although I doubt that the other judges shared my enthusiasm for the only seafood that does not aggravate my gout.
We all silently filed out of the tent and collected our Kraft goody bags, it reminded my of Alan Partridges ‘fun pack’ from the Dante Fires episode. It contained:
Three sachets of ketchup
Two sachets of A1 steak sauce
A ‘mac’n’cheese fun bendy pen
Some nuts
Some nuts
Some nuts
A card with instructions on how to bring Kraft products into your life
A liquid water enhancement solution? (liquid water as opposed to dehydrated water)
Some post-it notes
And probably some other shit
I took some bit sand dumped the rest then took the monorail back to the MGM Grand hotel where I got lost.
I had skipped breakfast and had been denied topping up on the chillies I had liked so was beginning to feel peckish. I opted to visit the hotel buffet where I had meatloaf, sausages, mac’n’cheese and beans. I also did something I don’t normally do, I had dessert, I won’t make that mistake again. The cheesecake was like polyfilla, rubbish. Full and tired I snatched an hours kip. AH, it’s obvious now why I can’t acclimatise to Vegas time; I keep sleeping in the afternoon, what a twat. I awoke a twosie state %100 and only just made it to the shitter. This happened twice more, I even considered not going to the reception. I did though.
I had missed an email from Julie earlier and through that an opportunity to talk with her. Annoyed I decided to attend the reception and see if she was there. She wasn’t. Adam was accosted by punters at an alarming rate, the Northern English couple showed no shame and dived in for their photo opportunity, embarrassing as they had nothing to say to him. Other than another English couple banging on loudly about how shit Vegas was there was not much more to report. I returned to the hotel.
Andrew did say that every hotel has it’s own particular clientele. The Excalibur is a sordid little Chav hole with wall to wall Jez Kezzers from the UK, rednecks from the US and gang bangers from Mehico (I know). I attempted to catch up with my blog in the lounge but a band, “The Klique’ were playing very loudly. They were playing music I ‘kin hate so I opted to take my ridiculously large, 22oz, Dick’s Colada to my room and write there. This I have done for an hour and I am only halfway through the bloody rum cocktail (it has an extra double shot of rum, $3, what can I say?)
I will finish and sleep, if I can.
Blog up to date, happy as an oyster.
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