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My wife-at-the-time and I were visiting a friend in Eureka California a number of years ago. We went to a little Thai place, and as my buddy and I both love spicy, we told the waiter/chef (he was the only worker, we were the only customers) to "make it like your mom makes it".
We got our food, and while tasty, didn't have the heat we were craving. So when he came out to ask us how our food was, my friend expressed his disappointment in the lack of spice. The guy smiles, and comes back out in a couple minutes with a tiny little dish that had about a half dozen miniature green peppers. We each proceeded to nibble at these.
Sheesh, these aren't that bad. (30 seconds later) Uh oh. :evilfrown: A small volcano had just started erupting in my mouth. I proceeded to calmly excuse myself to use the bathroom. Now, I knew, as an experienced hot food eater, that water doesn't do a damn thing other then spread the hot oils around in your mouth in order to distribute the pain more evenly. I really, truly knew that. Didn't make a difference. My head was in the sink attempting to hose out my mouth from the spout. I was grabbing paper towels to stem the sweat pouring off my face. I think I even attempted to wipe my tongue off with said paper towels.
After some unknown period in hell, I attempted to dry myself off, and saunter casually back to the table. I evidently succeeded in my dissembling, as years later in a conversation with this same friend, this particular meal came up. He had been in awe of my apparent ability to withstand mega-spiciness. The wimp. :evilgrin:
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