The time I ignored the people who told me the meal was too hot and lived to regret it...

So, I've been told I can be quite stubborn.

Typically, however, when someone looks into my pale white girl face and warns me about the spiciness level of the meal I am ordering, I shrug it off and ask them to go hotter.  Sometimes I sweat a little, but that's all in good fun.  I never regretted the decision, until that one day...

The introduction to this story would lead one to believe I am about to talk about the dinner I ate one night in Thailand, India, perhaps even Mexico... But this is not the case.  The meal was in Iceland.  At a Thai restaurant, but still.  (*When seeking a vegetable-packed meal at a restaurant in Europe where the traditional cuisine is not veggie-heavy, I generally seek an Asian place and order some kind of stir fry or curry.)

I was a non-believer when I walked into Ban Thai on Laugevegur in Reykjavik.  Authentic Thai in Iceland?  Please.  I chose the item that listed the most vegetables while containing the most chili peppers next to the item name and ordered it immediately.  Two to three staff members asked me if I was sure I wanted to order that item.  Of course! I assured them.  They probably didn't even have chili peppers on that cold little island...

The meal arrived, I took a bite and spontaneously combusted.  Or, so it felt like.  My mouth burned like the fire of a thousand suns, tears and sweat sucked out the tiny amount of moisture that remained in my body after the combustion, and I drank my water in a single gulp.  It felt like it took them about 10 years to refill that water, as I sucked on ice cubes and choked down another bite.  I think even my back was sweating at this point, but my pride would not let me quit.  I'd told them I wanted this meal (not to mention every restaurant meal in this country is the equivalent of a car payment in my own homeland).  Slowly, I sipped my beer, hoping the sugar would neutralize the Thai pepper I had accidentally eaten in my first two bites.  (I'd taken a ten minute break afterwards to pick out every other Thai pepper, but it still want not enough to make my mouth stop feeling like its thermal energy could power the city of Reykjavik.)

For 45 long minutes, my friends watched in gentle amusement/horror as I choked down Every. Last. Bite. of this nightmare of a meal.  I chewed ice cubes, I laughed, I cried.  Sweat poured down my reddened face.

Then I finished, smiled proudly, and paid my bill (enough to pay the annual wages of a Malaysian child in a clothing factory).

I'll never doubt you again, Iceland.  That was a meal I will not forget.