Posted on: May 03, 2005 04:37 PM
Having dinner with ten college students is not an unusual occurrence in my life. I graduated two years ago, but I can't seem to escape certain trappings of higher education. College is, like, my job now.
Last night I was able to treat my favorite kids to a meal at the Vermont Pub & Brewery. And we ate like kings.
Nachos Grande. Buffalo Tenders. Spud Skins. Sweet Potato Fries. Two orders of Cheese Sticks. All devoured in under four minutes.
After that carnage, we all learned that Marty (the one with major food issues) eats ketchup straight. Not out of the bottle, mind you -- but if there's some left on his plate? He'll scoop it up. He loves it.
But, Mr. Food Issues said, "Ketchup is the spiciest thing I can eat."
The table had the same reaction that anybody would. Ketchup isn't spicy. But Marty wouldn't concede. "Ketchup has a little bite," he said. "Not much of one -- but it's a little spicy."
We try to drop it and move on.
Our entrees took infinitely longer to arrive and eat. I got a tasty Tequila Lime Chicken -- tasty, if a bit dry. Came with a garden salad with Honey Chili Vinaigrette and Horseradish Mashed Potatoes. Their names were much more interesting than their flavor. I've had better.
It was around this time in the meal that Marty exclaimed, "Spice!"
He was eyeing the ingredients on the ketchup bottle, having just drowned his burger in the condiment. And, lo and behold, it was listed there, amongst the other stuff. Distilled vinegar. Sugar. Onion powder. Spice. The table erupted into laughter.
Now, being an end-of-the-year dinner, I had cards and gifts for everyone at the table. I got the seniors something nice and thoughtful, and for all the undergrads, various tiny stuffed animal things wearing school colors.
I was too full to really say anything thoughtful or profound to close out the year. I said whatever I said as we waited for the check, and I handed out the gifts.
While the table was quiet, everyone reading their cards (in front of me, which bothers me), one of my co-diners noted that two of the stuffed cats had fallen from my hands into a compromising position on the table. The head of one in the lap of the other. And, well, things went downhill from there.
Not the most original gag -- but still pretty funny.
I love my job.
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