Before you tuck in to read this questionable 5-page saga, this is not a story to be told in polite company. I have waited 11 years to put fingertips to keyboard to type it out, and while I am not proud of the result, I will confess that I did experience a feeling of completion upon its publication.
I first heard of Gus’ World Famous Fried Chicken when my friend Amanda shared a post from Eater (Atlanta)announcing that the chain was bringing a store to Atlanta. That was in February of 2015. Little did I realize that the fiery neon red image of the Gus’ sign in that article would soon be seared into my memory.
This misadventure took place, as many of my stories do, at Dragon Con.
A group of our boxplay friends and hangers-on decided to go try out a new chicken restaurant just down from Gibney’s Pub. Sure enough, it was Gus’ World Famous Fried Chicken!
My recollection of the meal is sparse and was largely reconstructed based on the memories of others who were in attendance. We had a table full of people, but following the events of that day I could only recall two of them with certainty: Timmy and Shawn.
To fill in the blank spots in my memory, I reached out to a few likely people in my friend circle seeking anyone who might have more detailed memories of our meal.
Rick said that he remembered chicken, but that Dragon Con was generally “a blur” for him, which is totally fair. It isn’t uncommon for attendees to launch investigations into WHERE they were on a certain day and WHO they were with and exactly HOW MANY Pan Galactic Gargleblasters they actually DRANK.
As it turns out, our friend Don had the best recollection of anyone.
“If you went there only once during DC, yeah I was there. It was the year that both Keir Dullea & Gary Lockwood were DC guests (2015) because I saw them together outside the window walking past the restaurant.”
Hey! I remembered that detail as soon as I read it – isn’t memory weird and untrustworthy?
Don is a huge film buff though, so I have no doubt that he did in fact spot the main stars of Stanley Kubrick’s groundbreaking 1968 sci-fi masterpiece 2001: A Space Odyssey casually ambling down the street together, arm in arm. I think I only saw the backs of their heads. Maaaybe a shoulder. Fame is fleeting, y’all.
Another thing that is fleeting is Gus’ World Famous Hot & Spicy Fried Chicken.
Because that stuff was HOT!
I remember that much because I was approaching the 4th anniversary of the near-emergency removal of my gallbladder. Don confirmed that the chicken was “too hot” for him as well, and reminded me that the owner had stepped out to speak with our table for a moment. Maaaybe I remember that?
As we wrapped up our meal, our crew began breaking up and heading off to previously scheduled panels, raves, drum circles, etc.
Shawn and Timmy and I decided to head down to Trader Vic’s in the basement of the Hilton, a place we were well accustomed with due to the many Thursday night gatherings to hear Tongo Hiti serenade the crowd at our favorite tiki bar.
Before we even reached the end of the block I had started sensing the Ghost of my Gallbladder, and it was VERY angry.
I gamely tried to put on a brave face as we arrived at the intersection and turned to walk down the hill toward the Hilton. It was probably me, but at some point, one of us confessed that they were experiencing the aftereffects of Gus’s World Famous Way Too Spicy Fried Chicken.
It became clear that we had all been affected and together, we picked up the pace and switched to a walk that allowed us to pinch our butt cheeks together. You know that never works, right?
The Hilton was only a half-block away but gosh, it sure seemed miles away.
We were never going to make it there if we didn’t pick up the pace, and by that point none of us were talking much. The Germans probably have a word for times when you’re just trying to make it to a toilet before disaster strikes.
Sheisertrotten, maybe?
I don’t know much German, to be fair.
The Crystal Ballroom Gambit
If you study a map of the hotels around Dragon Con, they’re not really all that far apart, so it was pretty nuts that all three of us had been overcome by such a powerful call of nature in such a remarkably short span of time.
As best we could manage, we hustled down the hill toward the Hilton, praying that the crosswalk sign would magically light up, that nobody would dawdle in front of us, and that the wind would be at our backs.
The ghost of my gallbladder was HOWLING.
We staggered into the Hilton somehow, but we might as well have been all the way back at the starting point of Gus’ World Famous Chicken Death Race of Dooky because we still had to make it to a restroom.
Between Dragon Con and our trips to Trader Vic’s I thought I knew that hotel upside down and backwards, and I knew there was a big restroom in the back, near the Crystal Ballroom. It had 10 stalls, easy!
But when I began pointing and trying to tell the others how to get there it just came out as a grunt. Nobody was prepared for a conversation and so we all hurried off in separate directions.
The restrooms near the Crystal Ballroom proved to be the perfect arena for experiencing Gus’ World Famous Gut Bustin’ Chicken as it battled the Angry Ghost of my Gallbladder.
Secret Toilet
Timmy’s choice was sheer genius, even if it did require a bit more walking.
At the upper ballroom level of the Hilton there was a skybridge connecting the hotel to rooms 215 through 224 in a neighboring office mid-rise (back then it was still the SunTrust building).
On a previous day, our group had ventured over that same small skybridge just to explore a space that was new to us. Checking out new areas is part of the fun of Dragon Con.
During that earlier foray, there had been a Dragon Con volunteer sitting in a chair, inspecting badges. With the exception of a small line of costumed fans, the only interesting thing we experienced on that expedition had been a locked server closet – we knew it was a server closet because we could hear one of the computers emitting a constant high pitched beeping alert, a sure sign that it was overheating.
A few doors down had been a men’s room, that Timmy had clocked on our self-guided tour. At the first blush of spicy chicken poisoning he had decided to make that restroom his hideout for riding out the wrath of Gus’ Infamous Emergency Chicken.
A Tropical Recovery
I eventually ventured back out into the hotel and made my way down to Trader Vic’s where our group slowly reassembled, avoiding discussion of the trauma we’d recently endured.
We never figured out where Shawn had gone and he still can’t remember himself, no doubt a sign of long-term spicy chicken poisoning. I suspect he went to the gaming floor, one level beneath the lobby – as that was always a cool, calm place for a pitstop.
Back in the Saddle, Almost
At some point I wandered back upstairs to go find a friend in another hotel. Before I could start heading in her direction I was spotted by the Ghost of my Gallbladder, who challenged me to a duel and launched into a second haunting of Gus’ Hell Chicken.
In a moment of panic I decided to head toward the secret restroom that Timmy had used.
At that time of the night all of the discussion panels were over and nobody was checking badges – the entire floor was empty. It would be just me, that beeping server, and a very empty restroom.
As quickly as I could, I power-walked to the right and circled around to the back corridor. The urgent beeping of the overheating server in the otherwise silent building added urgency to my pace.
With the exception of that beeping server, the restroom was supremely silent.
The Cool Beyond
Once I landed on the commode I realized the room felt like something out of a sci-fi movie featuring Keir Dullea & Gary Lockwood. The lighting was blown out several stops; everything glowed white. The air-conditioning provided a mesmerizing white noise and a cool breeze wafted through the room, helping to calm the fury of Gus’ Never-to-be-eaten-again Fried Chicken.
That damned beeping computer from down the hall was going to drive me mad if I stuck around long enough and I wasn’t sure that I would survive the clash of urgencies happening all around and me.
As I fought for inner peace, I noticed something moving across the floor.
I forced my eyes open and tried to focus on that thing.
It was small, fluffy, and light purple.
In a moment of clarity I realized that it was a remnant of a purple feather boa, dancing back and forth in that bright, bright, cool, airy space.
It’s tough for me now to convey to you exactly how much peace that small dancing fragment of a feather boa gave to me in that moment of vulnerability, but it became my world for a few minutes, as I just focused on it.
I forgot about everything.
Gus’ World Famous Fried Chicken did not exist, and the Ghost of my Gallbladder had been excommunicated.
Now, when faced with moments of turmoil, I retreat to a mental copy of that restroom, replete with a dancing remnant of a feather boa.
Thank you, Gus’ World Famous Fried Chicken, for a story I should never tell in polite company.
