The city has done everything possible to kill this small business but so far has failed. Hard enough to survive the restaurant business without local government demanding you handicap yourself unreasonably. Then switch out the unreasonable demands at whim, or say, by some model that was pulled out of some sorcerer's butt.
This margarita will make me drunk.
Will you be okay?
She is the second woman in two minutes to ask me that question. Apparently I looked fairly pathetic walking over there. I was wearing red pants and a white cotton tank-top with a tyrannosaurs rex and text that reads "leg day" which I find amusing since I'm walking with two wooden canes. I look like I'm going to fall down, the opposite of tyrannosaurs rex. A woman passed me up right in front of the restaurant and asked me if I was going to be okay. I was thinking, "Yes, I am okay, you big ol' noisome intrusive buxomus broad," but what came out was "I am fine. Thank you." The phone said it was 97℉ outside, and that's what, three degrees short of 100.00. I was hot, perhaps a bit wobbly, ah'ight?
Everyone on the sidewalk passed me up. I am used to it.
Travails:
There aren't any travails.
I was ready. Totally ready. Ready for the worst. But nothing happened. My body behaved perfectly normally.
My plan was set. The first mouthful will signal go to the bathroom. I was ready for that. But it didn't. Halfway through the meal will signal go to the bathroom, I was ready for that, but it didn't. Finishing the meal and standing up will definitely signal go to the bathroom but it didn't.
So I left the restaurant.
Now, walking will signal an emergency to race to the bathroom, but it didn't. Putting the key to the door and stopping at the mail boxes will signal a sudden emergency but it didn't. Finally, waiting for the elevator and approaching my apartment will signal a sudden extreme emergency that cannot be settled in seconds, but it didn't.
Nothing happened. Nothing the slightest bit uncomfortable. I marveled how normal my body felt after a Mexican meal with an alcoholic drink and two carbonated drinks. I went on another short errand expecting a sudden emergency at any moment and planning my moves accordingly but nothing happened. Total psych-out.
That's great. Truly. But this is where I get sucked into normalcy and no longer expect tragic results from simple movements. I'll forget that my kidney is operating at 35% efficiency. This is where old normalcy all suddenly pops to remind me of my new normalcy in which I must take extra care. And not just regular extra care, no, extreme extra care.
Like, make sure I have change of clothes in my backpack. Make sure I can clean myself up and the environment like mighty camper. Pack it all out and not be disgusting about it. Simply do it efficiently. With a plum and a clat. I mean, with aplomb and éclat.
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