A couple years ago Matt and I were skiing with a co-worker of mine who lived in Vail, Colo. We met up with him and a group of his friends, a rather hip group of young upwardly mobile professionals.
It was a festive spring day, and while chatting atop a ridge the topic of Sriracha, the Asian red hot sauce with the green cap, came up. “My boyfriend won’t let me eat it,” one woman said. I didn’t quite get it, and in one very sincerely innocent, though flying straight to the mouth, moment, I ask, “Because of kissing?”
Maybe she heard me (which would make for a funnier story) maybe she didn’t, but she definitely just turned her head and skied away.