Some of these places have self-serve ice cream machines, the sort that stand there innocently humming. I’ve long dreamed of opening my mouth beneath the spigot and letting someone else operate the lever. (maybe I should ask @ninkat for the meaning of this fantasy but I’m probably better off not knowing). My wife, who serves as the appointed Minister of Preventing Me From Doing Stupid Things, has forbidden this for the duration of our marriage. She claims it’s to preserve my (her?) dignity, though frankly that ship set sail years ago and is currently sinking somewhere well off the coast of Common Sense.
Earlier this year, at our local movie theater in Florida, I encountered a popcorn chute, basically a grain cannon disguised as a snack dispenser. I was studying the flow rate (because a man must have hobbies) when a teenage employee wandered over, wearing the expression of someone who’s about to regret asking a customer if they need help, a look I’ve come to know well.
Naturally, I asked if he’d pull the popcorn trigger while I positioned my mouth beneath the chute as my wife filmed the whole thing for insurance purposes. The kid laughed and seemed game, but as I considered the velocity of the kernels, it became clear that the outcome would be:
- I would choke to death in a way that glib historians would call “avoidable” or
- He would get fired or, most probably
- Both, which would really ruin everyone’s evening.
So I stepped back, dignity and marriage intact or at least no more damaged than usual.
best,
