I’m not sure if you knew this, but I pride myself in my corn-eating abilities.  There are many methods of corn consumption: typewriter back-and-forth chompin’, kernel-by-kernel picking, mowing down in one direction, etc.  All methods delicious.  

So I passed a street fair today that was selling some buttered/salted corn on the cob that looked freakin’ amazing.  Like cartoon-corn level amazing (all corn in cartoons looks perfect and awesome), or even Nacho-Libre-corn level amazing (“get that corn outta ma face!”).  I purchased some and proceeded to walk home chomping away.  My friend noted my corn-eating technique.  I was proud.  Proud and full of corn.  

After I said goodbye to my friend and was walking home alone, I reflected on her comment and reflected on what was left of my corn on the cob (is corn on the cob without corn just a “cob”?).  Clean as a whistle.  Mom would be proud (she’s really great at eating corn, btdubs.  She’s got high standards.).  And then literally, as I said to myself, “Man, I’m really good at eating corn,” I took a hubristic breath of air and I started choking.  Like full-on, tears-streaming-down-my-face, can’t-breathe, wtf-is-happening-in-my-esophagus-type choking.  I started thinking exit strategies, like “How fast can I run to CVS while choking to get some water?” or “Should I use the fence next to me to do a self-Heimlich in case I actually start passing out in the middle of the street?”  

Hubris!!!!  It strikes again.  A brutal reminder that whereas I may be pretty good at eating corn, I am by no means a corn-master.  And I shouldn’t upset the corn-gods with brash thoughts of corn-superiority.  I (re)-learned an important hubris lesson today, folks.  

I also learned something else today—the further you walk away from a street fair, the weirder it is to be holding/eating corn on the cob.  Awkward-corn-robot-dance.  

rant by Liz (wearing her Nacho-Libre-luchador-rantpants) 

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p.s. - About 5 seconds after I stopped choking, I took another bite of my corn (there were literally 2 bites left, it had to be done!) and I started coughing again.  The corn.  It ‘twas too good. 

p.p.s. - I’m alive (phew!) just in case you were wondering.  

p.p.p.s. - My throat still hurts. 

p.p.p.p.s. - This is the most times I’ve ever typed the word “corn” in one sitting.