We took Dave to eat at The Swinging Door Bar-B-Q restaurant tonight. The food there is outrageously delicious. So much so that when I dared bite a pickeled Jalapeno, I let the juices run over the meats and the seeds spread fiery hotness everywhere.

My mouth was burning. I took a quick bite of white bread, a sip of diet coke. There was no quenching this fire. A crisis loomed: the only way to put this fire out would be lots and lots of diet coke, but then I would have no room for barbeque. A true dilema. I made my decision to ride it out: slowly I ate more chicken and ribs. Not too fast, not to slow.

My eyes teared and sweat beaded up on my forehead. The delicious smoky flavors from the meats swirled and whirled on my tounge - alternatively on fire or numb; hypertasting the meat. This was an intense eating experience par excellance; the culinary equivalent of the green room.

Dave exclaimed, "Will- you're sweating!"

"and crying", my wife added.

"Don't cry, Daddy."