Here's a New York moment, for you

There's a Chinese place around the corner to Rite-Aid, above which I live. I dropped in the other night and ordered the spiciest entree, General Tso's chicken. I waited around and read King Leopold's Ghost because Golden Wok is mostly a take-out place so I had time to read. When my food was ready, they asked if I was eating in (at one of the four tables? Are you kidding?) and I said no, but I proceeded to unwrap the bag and sit and to scarf down the food.

The first couple bites were so filling, but right out of the wok, they were, and I pretended to burn my tongue. I started yelling; I started crying and pointing fingers, garbling through hot chicken and broccoli that they meant to burn me. They made me leave and gave me my cash back as I forced tears onto the pork fried rice. I gladly left.

I feel bad, though, because I'm bulimic now. I ate the rest of the food when I rounded the corner back but I didn't keep it down.

I've got to keep my figure somehow.