Next to me was a man old enough to know better drinking Jager shots with Guinness back, and when Green Bay made an ultimately pointless fourth-quarter fumble recovery deep in Giants territory, he found it reason enough to grab me around the neck and shake me like a kitten he didn’t like. That’s a fairly intimate exchange between two men who don’t know each other, and had I not been stunned by the shaking and already full of Hoss’s thick and smoky center-cut St. Louis ribs, chunky mashed potatoes and sticky-sweet barbecued baked beans, I might’ve said something.
Something like: “Hey, buddy, I gotta take a leak. Can you do me a favor and order me some of those Cheese Nips?”
Yes, that’s right: more barbecue this week. But this week’s barbecue, at Big Hoss Bar-B-Q, ain’t like other weeks’ barbecue and this week’s pit-man, Hoss Orwat, ain’t quite like any other pit-man. Matter of fact, he ain’t like almost any man I’ve ever met -- and I’ve met some strange ones.
Tales of Big Hoss and the food and action at Big Hoss fill this week’s section, which is liberally sauced with news of a scourge that appears to have hit the local bar scene: man-flirting. Check out the January 31 Bite Me to find out what that’s all about, and then see what you can do to stamp it out for good. –- Jason Sheehan
