I am stubborn. Between the two of us, my husband is the good natured one–willing to concede when wrong and for the happiness of others. I become determined about the goofiest of things and anger far to easily for my own good.
When I visited my husband in December, we stayed at a hotel in the center of Pachuca for one week. As we were staying in a hotel, we needed to eat out for all of our meals. Most of the time, we stayed at the restaurant to eat. However, one day we came across a rather large store that only served their food to-go.
I do not remember the name of it, but it fascinated me. Each server was in charge of three different dishes, and there must have been at least six servers on the line. You entered at one end and then moved down the line in turn. When you saw something you wanted, you told the server who would scoop some into a plastic bag and weigh it to your specifications. Most of the things I saw that I wanted were instantly shot down by Salvador.
“Oh, no, Sarah. That is much too spicy for you.”
“That is so spicy you will be sick. I will find you something else.”
“That is very spicy, Sarah. You do not want that.”
Okay, fine, fine. Then pick the meal that is suited for me, oh Prince of Spice.
He selected for me some chicken wings and a bag full of diced hot dogs, onions, and peppers to share with him back at the hotel. We picked up some fresh tortillas, some apple soda, and retreated to our temporary home.
When we arrived, we set-up lunch on the patio as best as we could and settled in for our meal. He fixed up two tortillas with the mixture of hot dog fun and handed one to me. He bit in first and immediately told me not to follow suit.
“Oh, Sarah, this is so, so spicy. Do not eat it. If you eat it you will be so sick,” he informed me.
I was not happy, but I figured it was no big deal–it would not be the first time I ate a meal of nothing but chicken wings. So I reached into the bag to pull them out. I quickly realized that there were only two.
“What happened to the rest?” I asked him.
“I ate two while you were washing your hands.”
“You only asked for four?”
“I did not know if you would like them.”
Neither did I, but I did know that I was hungry and wanted to eat.
I ate my two chicken wings while staring at the hot dog fun in my tortilla. It didn’t take me long to decide that I was going to eat it. How bad could it be? I had eaten spicy food before when I went out with him. He had made spicy food at home for me. Spicy food and me, we were acquainted.
He begged and pleaded with me to put that tortilla down, but I did not oblige him. I bit into it like the hungry, fat girl I was.
It wasn’t bad. Or rather, not bad for being a mixture of hot dog fun. This stage lasted all of two seconds. Then the burn set in.
My nose was running, my eyes watering, my throat was scratchy, and I even started to sweat.
“I told you, Sarah. I told you no, do not eat it,” Sal admonished me.
This just made me angry. “If you didn’t want me to eat it, you should have bought me something I could eat.” I then took another bite.
“Oh my God, Sarah, you should not do this.”
“Yeah, well, I’m hungry,” I choked out through the pain.
And in my true, stubborn form, I finished that taco of hot dog fun.
He, of course, was right: I shouldn’t have done it.