My mother always hoped that I’d one day get my grown up taste buds. I’m a picky eater and this causes me to be the frequent target of unnecessary ridicule. Actually, it’s pretty necessary and gives others hours of enjoyment. I use to spend the night at my best friend Andy’s house fairly often. I drove his mother nuts because she is quite the gourmet but would have to create a separate meal for me so “that little Noland boy” could eat. This usually consisted of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while they dined on something fancy that involved onions. I cannot stand onions. They will make me scream like a girl. Unless I’ve been drinking. There are two things that I will never eat unless I have two or more adult beverages, or one Zima: Onions and Cool Ranch Doritos. I can’t explain it. Some guys like to show off in a bar by brawling or hitting on women. I eat onions.
Let me digress even further here for a second and then I’ll swing back around and tie everything together. I’m working on a graduate degree in communications. What can I say; I’m aiming for the big bucks. I just finished a class in communication theory. You know you’re starting to really grow up when the professor is only two years older than you. I found the class extremely interesting and more than a little insightful but that’s not the point. We just finished finals. For this class, the final included an oral component. We live in Charleston, SC though so chances are, I’m better than you. That’s actually not true but it makes the next sentence more powerful. We don’t take finals in classrooms, we sound off in juice bars. My professor owns one of those places that specialize in blending wheat grass, exotic fruit juices, and fancy fiberful (not a real word) delectables, most of which are green.
I showed up on a Sunday morning to find my professor conducting an exam with another student. I had a few minutes to kill so I figured I’d pick something up from the bar. Nothing like a little commerce to get in good with the prof. I looked over the menu and settled on something called The Green Dragon, mostly because it just sounded so darn manly. The drink contained a fabulous mix of mango, apple, kale, and cayenne pepper. I don’t eat any of those things by themselves, let alone blended together but again, I’m opening up my palate so I went for it. I don’t really know how to sip anything so I gulped it down rather quickly. Hindsight man, hindsight. As the other student was finishing up the oral exam, my stomach started growling like the lion at the beginning of MGM movies. At first it tickled and then it didn’t tickle anymore. My stomach got angry and decided to be a jerk. My time had come and I did what can only really be described as an extended sashay to the back of the restaurant while trying to keep my integrity in tact. I sat down at the table across from my professor and had the following exchange: “Look, I need you to understand that it is a MORAL IMPERATIVE this exam be concluded within the next 15 minutes. I just drank your unholy firewater and I’m doing my absolute best not to conduct a sacrilegious b-hole dance right here in this establishment.”
I think she got the gist of the situation but I’m pretty sure part of her wanted to extend it just to mess with me. If that were the case, I would be forced to respect her and hold her in high regard for a well-played battle. Fortunately, I feel like I passed the oral portion of the exam with flying colors. I drove home very quickly to take care of things. My wife and I still do not speak and the dogs look at me funny. Strangely enough, I find myself craving another Green Dragon. Much like my Zimas though, I need to build a tolerance. I get the best of both worlds though. Total nutrition followed by a total cleanse.
