By Ms. Teri
Years ago, I spent some time as the feature editor at a
small-town Texas newspaper. I grew up in Florida so it was fun to pick up
stakes and move to the bigger, broader, taller-tale-d flatlands of Texas. I
still miss the barbeque and Tex-Mex restaurants there that served platters of
food for one that would feed an entire herd of cowboys.
Every Friday night after work, a group of us would head out
to a finger-lickin’, butt-kicking bar to toss back a few margaritas and some
ribs. One night, my friend Laura had way too many margaritas and started
telling funny stories about her husband. When the waitress brought our chips
and guacamole, she brought a bowl of jalapeño peppers. I had never heard of
jalapeños let alone tasted one, but I had had enough margaritas to bravely try
one. That was my first mistake. My eyes were watering, my mouth was burning and
my stomach felt like it was on fire. It was all I could do to sit there and
pretend nothing was going on. I needed another margarita, fast!
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