I couldn't wait to eat the Indian vegetarian special meal I had requested on the flight that took me to my junior year abroad in Singapore. This was pre-Internet, if you can remember those days, and I had gotten the "insider" advice to order this meal from reading Lonely Planet. I was not disappointed. The vegetables in my curry were vibrant and cooked to just the right texture. I savored each bite. I tasted the eggplant, potato and carrot. Then I speared a delicate appearing string bean and bit down. Within seconds, I thought I was going to die. I had mistaken a fiery green chile for an innocent bean. My eyes teared. My throat was burning. I began to hiccup uncontrollably. My seatmate made sure I wasn't choking and then pushed my flight attendant call button for me. The flight attendant rushed over and asked my handsome and distinguished appearing seatmate how she could help him, somehow blind to my gasping, tearing and sweating. He pointed at me: "She needs a glass of water."


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