Fun with chilli.
Years ago we were all sitting round the table in the kitchen, drinking fresh coffee, smoking bongs and doing all that groovy stuff you do when you live in a house full of unemployable degenerates. Someone came up with the idea we should try eating a fresh Birds Eye chilli each. Being young males it became a bit of a test of manhood, so we all grabbed one and started chewing. Nothing really happened for a while and then the heat began to build. I went to a strange place inside my head, disassociated from the pain in my mouth and with a ringing in my ears like I'd just inhaled a massive lungful of nitrous oxide. It was like some weird, painful hallucinogenic trip for quite some time. When I could focus again everyone looked to be in a similar state. Much cucumber was sliced and eaten after that.
Fast forward 3 or 4 years and and I'm at the Harbourview Hotel in the Rocks having Friday arvo' beers with my courier mates. As my girl and I were saying our goodbyes, one mate picked up a potted chilli plant (a spindly looking little Birds Eye with only two fruit on it) and said, "Here Bjorn, eat this." My slightly beer addled brain did a quick assessment of the situation and I decided I probably had a few minutes grace to get out the door, so I could eat it, smile, look like a hero and leave in triumph. I took the plunge and chewed it up expecting that a spindly little plant, just hanging on in a pot on a pub roof couldn't possibly produce the kind of heat that the well nourished products of an elderly Greek gardener had generated. I said my goodbyes and smiled saying, "They're very nice, you should try one." Then we left; before I even made it down the stairs I could feel the fire begin to burn. As we unlocked our bikes I said to my girl, "You'd better go in front, 'cos pretty soon I wont be able to see." We started riding south towards Central and then the world disappeared in a welter of tears, sweat and snot. Trying to ride a bike in that state is quite a challenge, but I concentrated on following her wheel like it was a golden thread through the aether, tying my soul to my body. After a lifetime of mouth and sinus pain we made it to the station and I bought the largest flavoured milk I could find and necked it as though I were Steve Jobs and it was the cure for cancer. I drank all my water almost as soon as we got on the train and was still in pain as we climbed the hill from the station to our house an hour later.
There is no real moral to this story, except I guess that male ego will make you do dumb stuff.