A Word About Spices

So, yesterday, a couple of my coworkers here at the Temporal Displacement Center and I went out for Thai food. Normally, I really like Thai food, and yesterday was no different, except for the fact that my testosterone was working a whole lot faster than my brain. Yassar, who is half Egyptian and half Mexican, and was seated next to me, inquired to the waiter about the possibility of having his dish made extra spicy.

"Sure," the waiter said.

Since I was to order next, well, I had no choice. "Extra spicy," I said, completely confident in my ability to both handle the fire and learn to love it. I am a man, after all.

Halfway into the dish, Yassar's eyes were watering; my entire head was covered in sweat. It was so bad that water was actually dripping down my face almost like the guy in Airplane! Yassar turned to me and said, "This is good, huh?"

I had to admit: it was damn tasty, but certain parts of my body were going numb and I was trying to drink enough water to keep myself from dehydrating-- such was the sweat factor at work here. About two-thirds of the way through, I finally acquiesced; the dish had won. Yassar, to his credit, kept on going and finished the entire meal.

But afterwards, all the way through about an hour after lunch, both of us were literally high, and pleasantly so, from the spice. I had heard about such a thing happening but never experienced it myself.

And I'm not sure I'll be brave enough to do it again.