You can't breathe through Denny's hash browns?

Motocross is my favorite sport. If we grew up together, we either watched, or road tripped to a motocross race at one time together. Those roadies have provided me with some of the best memories of my life. From blacking out the lights on a tour through the Howe cavern's in upstate New York (I can still hear my father telling us to quit it while he was trying not to laugh), to my buddy Hank turning beat red and nearly choking to death on a quadruple order of hash brown's at Denny's. Alright, I need to elaborate on the last one. Denny's hash brown's are the holy grail of breakfast sides as far as my boy Hank is concerned. Forget about the  Lumberjack or some Moons Over Mi-Hammy. Hank could care less about these breakfast staples. It's hash browns and lots of em' He's sitting, knife in one hand fork in the other, business ends of each pointing at the ceiling waiting for the waitress to take our order. My wife (girlfriend at the time) puts her order in, my buddy Steve  orders, then me. All the usual questions come from the waitress. What kind of toast? How would you like your eggs? etc... Then she gets to Hank. And for you? Four orders of hash browns! Dead silence and a somewhat funny/puzzled look comes across her face. That's four orders of hash brown's? Yup, Hank replies in a somewhat annoyed way. You really need to know Hank to fully appreciate this but I think you're starting to get the picture. All he cares about are his hash browns and how quickly they land in front of him. So, ordering is done, and yes we do make fun of him for both his order and the  determined and completely disturbing look in his eyes. The food arrives a short time later, although not nearly quick enough for the hash brown junkie sitting next to me and that's when it goes down. And by it I mean the savagery Hank unleashes on this poor pile of shredded potatoes. He lowers his head about 6 inches from the plate and mechanically starts shoveling this golden brown tater mound into his gullet. Now we're already staring in disbelief and cracking up when Hank's erratic breathing sucks an errant piece of spud down his windpipe. This is where the real comedy starts. He starts coughing. Everyone knows the "something went down the wrong pipe" cough, right? Well, it usually doesn't happen in front of three good friends and a packed Sunday morning breakfast crowd in Denny's. Some other tables start to notice what's happening while our buddy is coughing like he's got the plague and turning a completely unnatural shade of red/purple. The whole restaurant finally goes silent. Except for Hank's relentless coughing and his 3 "friends" who are turning the same shade of red/purple from being doubled over laughing at him. Hank eventually cleared his throat (no thanks to us) and finished every molecule of the quad hash brown order,  scarring any witnesses to this disturbing scene for life. I strayed off my original point from this blog being that motocross is my favorite sport. Now Looking back on this and the endless other stories that have come from this sport I love so much I know why. It's provided me with a life time of amazing experiences often times before the races even take place.