Curry
Its a work dinner, free drinks and free food. Problem is I work in Holland so most of my colleagues are Dutch, this funnily enough means they barely drink at all and are basically dullards without any spark (a bit like diesel engines, dull, but save money). Anyway, I proceed to drink quite a bit and get fairly bladdered.
The dinner ends up being at an Indian curry house. For some reason I decide the best way to show these Dutch people how inferior they are is by drinking more beer and eating hot curry (Dutch generally hate spicey food). So I ask for the hottest curry, but no, thats not hot enough, I ask the waiter over and ask for the 'special' sauce, the sauce that comes out in an asbestos bowl.
He brings out this small bowl of what looked like minced peanuts. I have a little spoon, its not bad, proceed to ladel loads of it on my curry. Down a drink and proceed to laugh at the inneptitude of the curry while everyone looks at me in awe. King of the party, I have shown these cloggies who should be the real boss. A minute later sweat... buckets of it... I look like a marathon runner sweat pouring down my face. Then tears streaming down my face. Dutch colleagues asking if I am all right and laughing, I am hiccuping, downing beers, and trying to quench the fire that seems to have erupted.
The next morning a hangover was the least of my problems. How I had wished I kept some tiolet paper in the fridge.
For months I had Dutch guys offering me curry this and curry that. Bastards!
Needless to say I am more careful about showing how manly I am now and stick to picking flowers...
(dekay23, Fri 19 Mar 2004, 15:03, Reply)