“I want to watch this one.”
Then moments later, my eyes started watering before the straight-to-the-tomb finger food was even in my peripheral vision.
There they were, in all their innocent-glory packaged with the raging ruination of my taste buds.
I became prepared, Bartender Toni handed me a glass of water served with a facial reaction that said: “This girl is nuts, and I get a front row seat to whatever happens next.”
She reached her arm out slowly to lower the water in front of me, indicating that there is a legitimate reason for her cautionary approach.
Simultaneously I hear from the kitchen, “Water is not going to help her.”
Well, crap. Here we go, folks.
12:06 p.m.: Bite into an edible object that tastes like an entire oven. OH.MY.GOSH. [That’s at least the the professionally appropriate response, so I’m stickin’ to it].
12:06 to 12:08: I have no clue what happened. Seriously, no clue.
12:09: Bartender Toni says, “Look at that face!” She automatically refills my water, as my body is expelling fluids through my forehead and my eyes. I lost my left contact during this ordeal. Yes, my left contact fell out. I couldn’t touch my face because it was covered in the nonsense that had engulfed every pore of my body and was simultaneously breathing out fire.
12:10: Thoughts: OH DEAR LORD, IT’S GETTING WORSE!!! If you think it’ll only last a few seconds, think again. There’s this moment where it subsides, but it’s like the quiet before the storm. It’s like your body is saying, “Oh, you fool. You thought this would be a good story…” right before your nervous system sets your lips on fire, makes your eyes water more, then turns on the faucet for your nose. If you think about wiping your nose with the back of your hand, think again. That little patch of your face that your fingers brushed will be reminding you how ridiculous you are when it’s still simmering 10 minutes later. Also, if you think it’s bad manners to wipe your nose on your hand, it is. But, you also forget your middle name during something like this, so good luck with remembering Miss Manner’s rules.
12:11: I Googled how to survive such a task prior to this heated event, in case this moment happened. I found that what happens next wasn’t as helpful as my Google results said it would be. I caught a breath long enough to make a request: “Milllkkkkk, pleeeeaaaase.” And, there you have it. I’m a 27-year-old. At a bar. Drinking milk.
[friday] editor/ Can’t take the heat