I went down to the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat.

Yesss… I see pasta.

I’m starving and, of course, there are 2 people in front of me who can’t decide what they want.

Out of nowhere, the good looking guy next to me says…

him: the chicken looks good.
me: (suddenly adjusting my posture) sure does.
him: (smiles and winks at me) let’s go for the chicken
—-ummm… LET’s???? did he just say ‘let’s”???
me: let’s.

We both order the chicken and I pay first (still wondering what he meant by “let’s”). I figured, if he follows me to the table, then I know.

I sit.

He sits at the table next to mine, facing me and smiles.

A’ight.

I smile back and as classy as one can cut a piece of chicken with a plastic knife and fork, I proceed to do so.

I take my first bite.

Chew. Chew. And then the clearing-of-the-throat thing starts to happen. — OK, Tania… keep your cool. Just drink some water.

Of course, drinking water would require that I open my mouth. I can’t open my mouth. You see, the piece of flippin chicken I had just bitten into was covered in an Asian-infused sauce I couldn’t pronounce. An unpronounceable sauce I am now sure translated into the words “this chicken is flavored to taste like the inter-sanctum of Hades.”

I thought of spitting it into my napkin but guess who forgot to grab napkins? How on earth am I supposed to smile, pay for my food, keep my posture and remember to grab napkins???

So I have no other choice but to swallow the slimy, lavaric bit of poultry. What was that for? Not only did the clearing-of-the-throat sound become a steady cough, suddenly my eyes start to tear up. Still trying to play it cool, I manage to get the words out…

me: whoa, this is really hot.

he’s still smiling… clearly not realizing my head is about to combust.

him: yeah. doesn’t it taste amazing?

People, just so you know, turns out the devil really is good looking.

I lift my shaking hands to my eyes in a last ditch effort to stop the tears from trailing down my cheek while simultaneously trying to grasp for air through my failed attempts to do the sexy-cough (oh, shut-up!). And as if things couldn’t get any worse, wouldn’t you know it, that’s when my nose starts to run. Flowing like the Mississippi River during a torrential down pour.

That’s about the time Beelzebub realizes what’s going on. I suddenly sense him standing next to me as he offers me a napkin from the few he had remembered to grab. At this point he has to place it directly in front of my face because I no longer have peripheral vision.

I grab all of the napkins from him as if they were a life-bouy, clutching the small stack with both hands, wiping off my nose and eyes… in that order (I said, shut-up!).

All elegance and decorum is long gone right after I blow my nose and just before I GULP my water down.

I see him looking at me so I compose myself as best I can.

me: well that was interesting.
him: maybe you should’ve had the pasta.

I hate that guy.

I hate him so much.