Alright. I've posted on my tendency to jog in the dark. In the middle of the night. Down dark streets. Often. Despite giving myself a heart attack more than a few ocassions. So I imagine that by now anyone reading this has a rather good idea as how little I fear late night adventures (or how little I fear them before I go on them). Which is why I found myself wandering the streets of Toronto at 2:30 am on a Saturday night, and absolutely loving it.
My face was split in half with glee, a smile plastered my face due to being ridiculously excited about the attractive bright lights and stumbling figures that passed me on the streets as I gawked openly as I explored. Even tourists would have been ashamed by my behavior. I was in a fog happiness. I even high fived a homeless person, who, now that I think about it, probably thought I was on ecstasy. He was very nice though.
Back to the point. Because I had been wandering around for hours my legs were tired and I was a tad hungry I decided to go on a journey to find a place to rest. There were plenty of bars and pubs to stop by, but I had little money due to paying the cover fee for a bar earlier that night and had no plans on doing it again. Eventually, after another twenty minutes of walking past late night Chinese take-outs and pizzerias I cam across a small Thai place that looked inviting despite being nearly empty.
Once successfully ordering something vegan I proceeded to text people randomly. This was more so due to not wanting to sit awkwardly alone than out of any need for human contact; I was unlucky enough to have forgotten my journal. Luckily I was saved by two things. First was a drove of boys my own age and the second was my meal being brought to me.
The boys were loud, laughing about the "spicy challenge" and acts of manhood. Raucously inviting others to watch one of them, a lanky boy wearing thick glasses and crazy hair, to dine in a meal so spicy that success would result in free spring rolls. For life.
This resulted in the server to laugh and to pull out a contract for him. I want to take a moment to simply reflect on the fact that this food is so spicy that a contract has to be signed pre-consumption. For legality reasons. Because it burns to eat it.
I do not blame him when his smile faltered as he questioned if anyone had died due attempting to finish the "spicy challenge." Nor do I blame him when he looked bleakly at the table when she replied that he may be the first with a knowing smile.
You could tell that he was going through a painful moment of deciding what was more important: The respect of his peers or his ability to digest food for the rest of his life. Like most young men he chose the former and soon his meal and fate was placed before him.
Here are the rules:
-You have thirty minutes.
-No one is allowed to assist you with the meal.
-You are not allowed to use napkins.
-You are not allowed to consume anything else during this meal, including water.
-You must have your picture taken after your attempt.
-And once you are finished you must sit for five minutes. To digest.
He tried, valiantly. As I, the server, and the chef watched as he struggled with a bowl of soup and what looked to be noodles. The chef was beside himself in malicious glee, watching the young man squirm as his friends teased and supported him at the same time. The chef, knowing that 200 people had tried before and only 6 had succeeded, had no problem informing this young man that he would not have the guts to be the 7th. He did manage to get half way through.
Afterwards, the chef, who had chatted to me as we watched, brought me a sample after in a small bowl. Driven my my own curiosity I slurped it down. This isn't so bad, I thought. Yes, it was undeniably hot. But not inedible. I smiled. Thanked them for the meal, promised to do the challenge the next time I was back, and left a big tip before heading on my way.
And then burning hit me and all I could think was Oh.
My mouth was on fire but that I could live with. My stomach, on the other hand, felt as though knives were being driven through me and my stomach gurgled in agony. I stumbled back to my friend's place, realizing that a full meal smothered in what had to be molten lava would have resulted in physical scarring. Wondering all the while how he managed to eat half and why I thought it was a good idea to follow suite.
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