For the most part, I try to only eat at local restaurants. If I'm going to dump garbage into my body, it might as well be from a neighbor, and not some giant corporation. There's a small but popular chain in Ohio and a few neighboring states called Skyline Chili. They make this delicious sweet chili and pour it over spaghetti, into burritos, and, of course, on top of hot dogs.

At the local Skyline Chili in the Highlands of Louisville, Kentucky, something caught my eye. It was a Wall of Fame for those brave enough to eat 10 or more chili cheese coneys in one sitting. I saw it two weeks ago and, literally, it's all I could think about. I had to get on that wall and get my free t-shirt.

My friend Robert knows the manager and set up a time for myself and two other competitors to sit at a reserved table (oh you fancy, huh?) and take on the beast of a challenge. I'm going to let you know now, this doesn't end well and there are photos.

Hot Sauce on a Hot Dog
Photo Courtesy of Rob Fee

I was up at six in the morning, and didn't eat a think before the competition just before noon, so I was more than ready to chow.  Ten chili cheese dogs? Pssh, please. Bring it on. Those bad boys came out piled with chili and cheese so I did the only sensible thing and doused them with hot sauce. I'd eventually regret the decision.

My fear, as I began to eat, was that I would mentally psyche myself out and start to think I was full before I actually got full. I tried to keep a clear mind and watch the news on their television while shoving hot dogs into my mouth. The first went down without a problem. Same with the second and third dog. This was going to be a walk in the park. Here was my strategy after eating my fourth hot dog.

Next up, hot dog number five and six and I plowed through both. Could it really be this easy? Am I a demigod? Should I be one of the Avengers?

The answer was no.

I hit hot dog number seven and the seas got rough. It's not as much the feeling of being full but the fact your taste buds hating you because they know you're getting ready to dump more chili on them. At this point I would give up my spot in the Avengers for some Haagen Dazs.

I felt every last bite of the seventh hot dog. There were only three left. If that overzealous loudmouth on 'Man vs Food' can eat his own weight in sloppy Joe then surely I can do this. I push through and finish number eight, but holy cow, I felt it.

There's only two more hot dogs left. I start thinking about Michael Jordan in game one of the 1992 NBA Finals. He's my motivation. Can I be the Michael Jordan of hot dogs? Maybe. Just maybe.

I start eating number nine and it's absolute hell. Every bite feels like I'm pulling a piece out of a game of Jenga while blindfolded and doing the Stanky Leg. This was my game seven. I could do this. I devoured number nine.

Hot Dog Alone
Photo Courtesy of Rob Fee

"There's only one more hot dog." I thought to myself. "You've eaten NINE, what's one more?" I tried to stretch. I tried to take deep breaths. "You can do this." I say aloud. "This is your moment."

Then (WARNING GRAPHIC VIDEO) , this happened.

I threw up. I threw up hot dogs into a plate of other hot dogs. But I didn't just throw up once, it came in powerful waves like the troops who stormed the beach in the opening of 'Saving Private Ryan.'

The first two reappeared as a hot dog soup, then the third and fourth contained the hot sauce. It was awful, but for some reason, really hilarious.

If you really need to see photo evidence, you can enjoy this photo, this photo and this photo.

I can't imagine being one of the other customers. Puke flying everywhere like I'm a demented Christmas Parade Santa tossing regurgitated meats out to all the boys and girls. This went on for about ten minutes as I covered my clothes in throw up. But guess what? I GOT A FREE SHIRT! (It counts, even though they just gave it to me because my old shirt was ruined with hot dog barf.)

Hot Dog Final
Photo Courtesy of Rob Fee

I've decided I won't take a shot at the Nathan's Hot Dog Challenge next year. A big shoutout to the Skyline Chili in Louisville for letting me fill their restaurant with vomit. If you'd like to attempt the challenge yourself, let me know how you do.

For the record, my friend Robert threw up as soon as he walked out the door. What a loser.