Those of you who’ve seen Rapscallions featured on Man v. Food know that the show’s host sidestepped the spicy endeavor known as the “Davy Jones Challenge.” The rules are simple: consume 10 wings smothered in Rapscallions’s Davy Jones sauce before 30 minutes run out, and then endure a 5 minute after burn. At no point during the challenge can any substance be consumed apart from the absurdly hot wing meat. No drinks, no dressings, no fries, no nothing. It’s just you, the wings, and a pile of napkins. So what would prevent national challenge seeker Adam Richman from partaking in what appears to be a typical hot wing challenge? The umpteenth level of pain, courtesy of hot sauce overload.
Dave’s Insanity could team up with Mad Dog’s 357 and it’d equate to liquid human coolant compared to the scorching blaze of Davy Jones wing sauce. Rapscallions has every entrant sign a “death waiver” as a fun way of saying “good luck, dummy!” Because only fools would willingly submit themselves to a potential trip down to Davy Jones’ Locker, and that’s exactly what Rapscallions anticipates for those daring enough to attempt this challenge. Once you’ve freed Rapscallions of liability with your John Hancock the game is on. Ten of the hottest wings conceivable are served up on a plate next to a tower of napkins; that’s all you get. The capsaicin extract and habanero peppers will burn the nostrils at up to a foot away from the 10 little devils. Despite their daunting nature however the thirty minutes allotted seems like plenty of time, until you take a couple bites…
Commence chewing and the feelings of panic start setting in. The multiple restaurant staff members surrounding the table might begin cheering you on but you won’t hear them. The overwhelming nature of the beastly Davy Jones sauce numbs the limbs, face, and extremities leaving you wondering if fire-eaters have it so bad. At no point do the drinks at surrounding tables become any less appealing either. Quite the contrary, the brain seems focused solely on dousing the entire body with cool, soothing liquid. Milk is the eventual goal but thoughts of it alone aren’t enough to bring you back to Earth. There’s a buzzing in the air around the final bites and a genuine feeling of head swelling that doesn’t subside. Now, I describe the physical aspects of this ordeal not as a warning but a simple retelling of the experience. Your mileage in dominating these wings may vary but if there’s one thing I’m certain of it’s this: the Davy Jones Challenge is not to be underestimated.
The five minute after burn has to be the most excruciating portion of the entire process. Congratulations on eating a pile of flames; now sit there and think about what you just did. Think about it while your insides scream at you, your muscles tense up, and you try with all your might to keep everything down. Success means milk, which may as well be a million dollars for all that it’s appreciated. The slowest five minutes of your life will eventually end and so long as you’ve kept your insides inside, you win. A t-shirt and quick photograph later and not much has changed. The hot sauce lingers for hours on the mouth and up to a day on the fingers. Considering the server was wearing not one but two pears of gloves in fear of touching these wings should indicate how outrageously hot they are. If you’re still unconvinced or simply prefer a cheap method of irrigating your stomach and intestines, the Davy Jones Challenge costs $9.99 if you lose and is completely free if you manage to complete it. Final pro-tip: it pains me to admit it, and it pained me even worse to endure it, but the challenge only truly ends when you emerge victorious from your bathroom the following day. Believe it.
