Mild Food is my Savior


I recall one incident when I ordered moderately spicy Indian food with my friends. After I picked a dish, the waiter asked me if what grade I wanted, out of five, on the restaurant’s spiciness scale. He recommended choosing grade four because it was tolerable and people liked it. I thought that four would be okay – hot enough to enjoy but not enough to torture me.
The waiter brought the food to the table, and I took my first bite, which was tasty and pungent. A few minutes later, I felt a wave of heat coming out of my body, rising from my feet up. Sweat poured down my face, and my hair dampened.
My girlfriend looked at me and asked if I was okay. “I guess so,” I said uncertainly. However, this food was not my perfect choice. From now on, I would always order mild food.

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