Hungry for a Piece...of Something

I grab a cab to meet Kodiak for pizza at Piece. Cab drivers are interesting characters, and this guy is no exception.

Me: North, Damen and Milwaukee, please. Actually, I’m going to Piece, if you know where that is.
Driver: PIECE?!?! They have amazing pizza there!
Me: Ooh, I know! I take it you’re a fan?
Driver: Um, no. I’ve actually never eaten there. But my customers all rave about it.

We drive for about 5 minutes. He glances in his rearview mirror...

Driver: I’m kinda hungry. Maybe I can come in and join you?
Me: Erm, hahaha. Maybe another night, OK?

It’s not unusual for cabbies to flirt with me. Many times I’ll get asked if I have a boyfriend, and usually I just laugh it off and they get the hint. Not this guy. As we pull up to the restaurant…

Driver: So, when are we going to go? Don’t wait too long…I really want to go. What night works for you?

Well, he certainly was determined. But not as determined as I was to get the heck out of that cab…

Open up and say AHHHH

Three weeks ago, I had a tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy. As a child, I had strep about a bazillion times, and my tonsils have consistently been waging war on me since then. Not a month went by where I didn’t have a sore throat and I got fed up with it. So I decided to go visit my ENT (ear, nose and throat) doc.

Now, my ENT is cute. Really, really cute. Like Grey’s-Anatomy drool-worthy cute. So when he’s shoving a camera down my nose to see what my adenoids look like, it’s a little difficult to flirt with McFoxy. Adenoids are lymphatic tissue in the upper throat behind your nose and are present in most people as children. Typically, they gradually disappear as adulthood approaches. But I am not your typical gal. Oh no. My adenoids took up 50% of my breathing space. FIFTY PERCENT. I was hardly getting any oxygen while I slept. No wonder I was such a big fan of napping. So out the adenoids go, too.

I scheduled my surgery with McFoxy and my parents drive in to the Big City to take care of me while I’m recovering. My mom doesn’t like hospitals. Trying to lighten the mood, I say, “Hey mom, at least they’re taking tonsils out of me and not a baby!” She didn’t find that joke as amusing as I did. What she did find funny was me coming off of the general anesthesia. Those of you who have been lucky enough to be around me after a few cocktails know how chatty I can get. Imagine that times 100. Yeah, Mom learned all kinds of interesting things about me that afternoon. A part of me wonders if “taking me home from the hospital” was code for Operation: Let’s See What My Daughter Has REALLY Been Up to These Days.

I went to see McFoxy last week for my post-op checkup. He says I’m recovering just fine and that I’ll be back to “normal” in no time. As he’s reading my file, he starts laughing and mutters “Oh, yeah”. Hmmm, curious behavior. He turns to me and asks, “Do you drink much?” I swoon a little, imagining him asking me out for a drink.

“I’m in law school, if that answers your question,” I say. Well, apparently those who are heavy drinkers do not respond to general anesthesia very well. They had to give me extra anesthesia to get me to go under. Come to think of it, I do remember asking the scrub nurses questions about the surgical tools and their look of surprise when I was chatting them up.

McFoxy’s parting words: “Good luck with the bar exam, and try to lighten up on the booze, Missy.”

My mom’s response when I tell her the doc’s advice? “Eh. All doctors say that.”