Virg didn't wait for Lucy to cool

Sosie and Bill don't just show up in town without having some ideas about entertaining themselves. The couple were coming in from California to see Mother in Alex and then join others for some fun Saturday and Sunday in Minneapolis.
Alexandria was easy. Find a summer sausage worthy of the old Garfield Creamery to take back home to old friend Rand Elness in a rest home in California. Mission accomplished.
Minneapolis? Sosie's internet guide said that for a savvy traveler, a Jucy Lucy at Matt's is just the thing. The internets say it is a unique hamburger treat in a bar that has been honored for not changing anything for 54 years. A real throwback. Just the thing, Sosie said.

Sosie wants, Sosie gets.
We found Matt's Bar on Cedar Ave just about where Becky Stewart Rolfsrud said it would be. Becky grew up in the same south Minneapolis neighborhood and Matt's was an institution then. The neighborhood has changed, but not Matt's. You can play B17 on the jukebox, but they don't take VISA at Matt's. They don't take Am Express either or any other form of plastic. No checks. You pay in cash only. What a concept!
Our party of 10 walked through the dimly-lit bar to the big booth in the back under the Blue Moon neon sign.

The busy waitress described the featured item: A jucy lucy is a double hamburger patty with a chunk of cheese sealed inside. One person can't eat a french-fry basket, you're better off splitting it. Splitting a jucy lucy is a bad idea because dividing it always makes a big, sticky mess. The mess is supposed to be on your chin and hands, not on the table.
Some history: When it was first tasted by the owner back in the 50s, as the melting cheese and grease ran down the corner of his mouth, the owner exclaimed, "Man, that is a juicy Lucy!" The name stuck. Apparently the owner was a better cook than speller.

Only the more courageous of our group ordered the signature item. Solvieg and Bill, having come all the way from the coast, had to have one for bragging rights, of course. Virg ordered one, (well done) as did Alex and Danny. Burgers, onions, cokes, french fries and beer finished the $84 order. We shared a pitcher of Blue Moon, which is a Belgian wheat beer with a citrus finish, according to Meister Bill.
The waitress delivered our order in a big wire basket, all labeled and wrapped in clean white paper. She passed the items out like Christmas presents. A snatch of lettuce for Kathleen's bun arrived by special order to provide the only green thing at the table.

The defining moment, according to a notice on the wall, asks which option the diner finds most painful: eating the jucy lucy immediately and burning your tongue, or going through the agony of waiting for the cheese to cool before devouring it.
I don't know how this may define our siblings, but just for the record: Solvieg waited for her cheese to cool, Virg wolfed his immediately.