This “problem” was the wurst.
Citi Subject tried to glom onto the viral “999 Problem,” wherein baseball followers gobble down 9 sizzling canines and 9 beers in 9 innings — however my try to devour the Opening Day expertise left me crammed principally with disappointment acquainted to Mets followers — and never practically sufficient beer.
I volunteered for the food-centric feat within the title of journalism, in fact. However the laughably small 2.5-ounce beers and teeny weenies triggered principally a bloated, thirsty feeling — and I used to be barely in a position to catch a buzz.
At first, I assumed the gut-busting enterprise would require Pepto Bismol on-hand and probably a health care provider on-call, so I rang the world’s number-three-ranked aggressive eater Geoffrey Esper for recommendation.
He recommended skipping breakfast and altering up sizzling canine toppings to fight “taste fatigue” to be able to channel my interior Joey Chestnut.
However after I paid $60 for the “999 Problem” tray of 9 3.5-inch sizzling canines and a single 24-ounce can of Coors (I may have additionally chosen Heineken) I knew all that prep was for nothing.
The tall boy was meant to be divided into 9 barely-there glasses and sipped at a snail’s tempo of 1 2.5-ounce cup per every of the sport’s innings. That’s solely concerning the dimension of a double shot glass.
Lame.
“Not full glizzies?!” one fellow upset fan moaned on the slider-sized franks, utilizing the slang time period for warm canine.
“These sizzling canines look so unhappy,” one other mentioned.
The primary two mini sizzling canines went down straightforward, and I knocked again my tiny beer in only a couple sips. The little glasses are plastic souvenirs embellished with the Mets brand, which defined the value of the tray.
As I ate wiener after wiener — every served on a cracked and rancid bun — I used to be dying for extra to drink.
The booze-to-hot-dog ratio was not a winner. I wanted extra beer.
However my “chilly one” had heated as much as the temperature of lukewarm tea by the top of the sunny, three-hour affair.
By the third inning, I’d kissed the potential for a buzz goodbye.
I managed to get the ultra-dry canines — which didn’t really style that dangerous — down with the assistance of ketchup and mustard. It solely took three bites per canine — however I nonetheless obtained uncomfortably full by the fourth inning.
My abdomen was protruding, and it obtained so sizzling, and my fingers began swelling. I used to be over it.
The enormous tray arrange on my lap additionally made it onerous to face as much as cheer because the Mets dominated over the Pirates, finally profitable 7 to 11.
In the long run, I drank all 24 ounces of the beer and managed to choke down 6.5 of the canines earlier than rising wildly bloated and giving up.
I left feeling sizzling, drained and grumpy.
Now, I want an actual drink.
— Extra reporting by Natalie O’Neill
