Another mountain dispatch from Candice Dyer ...
The other day, while eating sushi in Gainesville (a dumb idea from the get-go), the young, earnest, eager-to-please chef was hovering over me as I ate. After each bite, he'd ask, "Good, dear?" and bow deferentially. I'd nod and smile as I chewed. I had to force myself not to retch when I realized that the yellowtail had gone bad. I didn't want to risk a night of food poisoning, but I also didn't want to hurt his feelings. He turned his head for just a nanosecond, so I whisked all of the sushi into my purse to avoid eating it.
Then I proceeded to forget about it, only to discover the next evening, as I reached into the abyss for lipstick, that everything was covered in oily, spoiled, putrified fish gunk. Everything including my stash of Lortabs, which had spilled out. Did Liza Minelli have days like this?
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