Someone I know in Atlanta who installs and services electronic equipment had a recent job in Avondale Estates, Georgia right on the main drag through town (what there is of it!).
Two or so doors down from where he was working was a likely-looking eatery: the window sign proclaimed "HOT WING" for all to see. I'll let him tell the story, quoting near-verbatim.
"I like my wings medium," he told me, but I sure do like 'em. Okay. I went over there for lunch, with the idea of bringing a couple dozen back. I walked up to the counter and asked for 24 medium wings.
"'No medium wing. Hot wing,' the lady chirped. Okay. I ordered two dozen. They were absolutely the hottest I've EVER had to suffer through! My mouth burned all afternoon.
"Strangely enough, two or three days later, I found myself wanting more. This time I was prepared: I brought my own bottle of mild wing sauce to drench them in hopes of cutting down the effect.
"Initially, it worked. Then I found my mouth building up in scorchiness. I thought of Ferde Grofe's 'Grand Canyon Suite,' the movement that's the buildup to the cloudburst. How I wished for an in-mouth thunderstorm that would last long enough to cool it off!"
(I about died laughing at this point.)
"Have you been back since the job was completed?" I inquired.
"Oh, yeah. Say - whatta ya think they put in that sauce? It's almost like it causes withdrawal. Ya just gotta go back and get some more."
When I ascertain the correct name and address of the place, I'll post it here. There are three likely possibilities, and I wanna send y'all to the correct one.
Not Winging It, Ort. Carlton in None-Too-Mild Athens, Georgia.
P. S. I agree with him - make mine medium.