A favourite meal memory of mine is of a night we went to an East Indian Restaurant in Vancouver with Noahkila's God Father A.We settled in around the table and began reading the menu. Quickly we all settled on a selection and when the waiter arrived we were ready to order.
"I'll have the goat curry," said A, "and I'll have the hot."
The waiter shook his head.
"I'll have the hot please," said A.
Again the waiter shook his head.
"I'll have the hot please," said A., a little more insistent.
"It's too hot," came the reply from the waiter, "I'll give you the medium."
"I would like the hot, please," said A., his frustration level rising, "if I wanted medium I'd order the medium. I've ordered the hot, I'd like the hot."
"Too hot," replied the waiter yet again.
"I want the hot," insisted A.
The waiter shook his head with a smile of distain, "Okay, if that's what you want ..."
Later when the meals came, A. tucked into his plate of curry with great delight. But quickly beads of sweat formed on his brow, which turned to rivulets, which developed into streams, and finally into a torrent that poured down his face. With each mouthful of curry he wiped his brow and took a long sip of his water. Finally with a sheepish grin A. said, "Man, the waiter WAS RIGHT, this is too hot ..."
But valiantly A. made his way through his entire meal and when his plate was clean, it was with a sense of triumph that he set his knife and fork down and pushed his plate away. As he once again wiped his dripping brow he commented, "THAT was too hot." And he gasped as he took a long drink of water.
A few moments later the waiter returned, "How was everything?" he asked.
"Oh you were right," commented A., "the hot WAS too hot."
The waiter snorted as he laughed and replied, "That WASN'T the hot, I gave you the medium ..."
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