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Edited on Mon Oct-03-05 08:31 PM by mike_c
...which is really ironic because of the recent crab cake thread. Thirty years ago-- I would not do this today, so don't ever suggest that there's no correlation between age and wisdom-- thirty years ago some friends of mine and I were working our way through a couple of bushels of blue crabs in this crab feast place on the eastern shore of Maryland. I don't remember where this place was, but it was one of those restaurant-bar affairs right on the estruary that had a bunch of boats pulled up to the dock in front. They spread butcher paper on the table and brought the crabs out steaming in buckets. We were eating crabs, drinking beer, listening to some country and western band play on a tiny stage, and every now and then slipping out singly for bong hits in the parking lot. So after a while the food challanges started, like "betcha can't chug that whole beer" and "you're a wuss if you don't eat that part-- yeah, that dangly thing right there." But the best was "betcha can't snort two lines that red crab spice...."
The crab spice was probably salt, cayenne pepper, dry mustard, and who knows what all else. Mostly cayenne-- the stuff was fiery. So, my manhood at risk, I watched while my friends giggled and lined you two inch and a half long lines of red stuff they shook out onto the table. I rolled up a bill and commenced snorting. I snorted one line. I did not snort the other.
I cannot describe what it was like when that cayenne hit my nasal membranes. It felt like the top of my head was coming off while dwarves pounded on my nose with baseball bats. My eyes filled with tears and all I could say was "Gahh. Gahh. Oh fuck." People looking over must have wondered whether I needed a Heimlich, until I ran out the door to violently clear my nose kneeling by the side of the car. My friends dissed me for wussing out on the second line. We too were soon asked to leave. They were polite about it, but firm.
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