Know Your Spice Level
What do talking apes, thai food, and a Lunchbox Squib all have in common? The three collided for me, last Saturday during one funky haze.
It all started in the afternoon with an attempted game of disc golf. My best chum Joshua cruised over to my place with a few beers. Despite the best of intentions, plus an afternoon nap, and a mondo bowl of Sun Lee #9, plans fell apart due to . . . lack of discs. Who wants to share a set? On the way to the car, as we formulated alternate plans (ugh, I feel dirty using that word now). I tore open the package for a green apple squib. Feeling exceedingly confident, I popped the whole thing in my mouth and made it vanish. I find this is all too easy with the Squibs—the cannabis taste is tucked comfortably inside the fruity gummy taste.
We decided to go for dinner after that. And that’s when things got weird.
I picked the spot known for not holding back on the spice. Knowing full well what I was getting into, I let my confidence choose one-level hotter on the spice scale than normal. Should’ve known what was coming when my Pad See Ew came out dusted in red pepper flakes.
Ever heard of ‘spice drunk?’ There’s no official term, but that’s what my friends and I call the light-headed feeling you get when you eat a lot of spicy food. Needless to say, I got spice drunk right at the time the Squib kicked in. For a hot minute, I swore my noodles were shifting around on the plate! Joshua’s head became cartoonishly large like a bobble-head. Shit, I couldn’t stop laughing at seemingly nothing. It was wonderful, just like in the early days of smoking.
I pretty much spilled out of the restaurant with Joshua in front, half amused, half annoyed he wasn’t higher himself. In my state, I figured I needed some serious stimulation, so we slid into the St. John’s Theater—1st time and it didn’t disappoint. I don’t know what tripped me up more: the talking apes on horseback or the large wooden dome of a theater we sat in. At one point, I may have convinced myself we were in Europe. There’s a huge Union Jack inside the auditorium; can you blame me?
Anyways . . . The effects cooled off somewhere between the trial of the talking gorilla and Woody Harrelson’s best rendition of Marlon Brando in ‘Apocalypse Now.’
Moral of the story: Known your spice level.