Order up: 1 burrito,
hold the diamond
Last Updated on 12/1/2008
Published on 9/2/2008
By Ann Ipock
Since going out to lunch is one of my very favorite things -- it ranks right up there with shoe shopping, getting massages and celebrating my birthday -- that's what I was doing recently when I got the shock of my life.
As I took my final bite of that delicious, nutritious "Baywatch" seafood burrito, I felt pain like you wouldn't believe. "What the *$^@%(%@?" I said to hubby Russell and daughter Katie, who were sitting in the booth with me.
I then retrieved a small, shiny, hard object. Now, y'all know I've had braces for a year and a half, right? Or at least I've written about it a few times.
So, natch, I thought I'd broken off a bracket. (I once did that with a hard pita chip.)
I grabbed my napkin, cleaned up the nugget and realized the culprit was a diamond. A diamond! I am not making this up ... I even have witnesses.
Let me describe: I say it was a diamond, but yeah, it might have been a CZ, cubic zirconia. But wait a minute, that's not the point: The point is I bit down on a gemstone, a piece of glass or whatever -- and it hurt!
The aforementioned was set in four silver prongs, with a round silver backing and a hole inside that with nothing else attached. So whether it came from a ring (ewwwwww!) or worse yet, an earring (oh, barf!) I couldn't say.
Now I'm a pretty patient person -- all right, so I'm not, according to Russell, a.k.a. Oscar the Grouch. But I am a nice person.
Therefore, rather than storming to the front counter, demanding to see the owner and throwing a conniption fit, I merely walked to the counter, stated my case to the manager (of course, I might have known: the owner was GONE! She was probably searching somewhere for her missing diamond) and said I was quite disappointed. Isn't that lame?
I hate it when I'm so nice and undeservedly so! Why didn't I just stand up in a chair and yell to everyone in there, "Watch out, y'all! Instead of 'There's gold in them thar hills,' 'there's diamonds in them thar burritos?'"
At this point, the young manager (22 years old, if a day) took the diamond from me, politely apologized and asked me if I'd like another burrito to replace the one I just finished, er, ah, nearly finished. What? Do I look like a fool? Who knows? The next time I might have discovered something even worse inside my burrito, say, an anklet or a wristwatch. I don't think so. She did offer to give me a free meal the next time (was she kidding?) I went there.
The funny -- no, make that horrible -- thing was she just kept saying she wondered who the diamond belonged to.
This was when I wanted to faint. I must've been in shock because, at her suggestion, I did give her my name and number to redeem my free meal if and when I ever return.
I'll admit the thought of breaking a filling (turns out I didn't) or losing a bracket off my braces (not that either) wasn't half as sickening as the thought of WHERE that diamond had been before it hid itself amongst my shrimp, tilapia and salsa, landing squarely between my amalgamated molars.
Well, lucky for the old burrito folks, I didn't hurt my mouth, I didn't get sick (unless you count mentally), but when I went to my orthodontist's office, they all said the same thing: Not, "How did it happen?" "Where did it come from?" "How badly were you hurt?" Oh no, instead they said: "You fool, that diamond might have been worth something! Why didn't you keep it?"
Ann Ipock, author of "Life Is Short, So Read This Fast!," can be reached at www.annipock.com or amipock@ec.rr.com.
