However, I was busting my ass all week in Philadelphia for my first grown-up business lady work trip. Hustle and bustle. We arrived by train which is a short 2 hour trip to the Four Seasons Hotel Philadelphia. It is a beautiful hotel and the staff was amazing. "Yes Ms. Armstrong," this, "yes Ms. Armstrong," that (royalty treatment)... and the FOOD?!... Amazing.
The company card helped as well. Four days of great food and wine and.... cha ching!.. all on the company. It's enough to spoil a girl. As soon as I got back Friday I was too exhausted to cook, and had no food so I had pizza delivered. I stared at my pathetic debit card... shaking my head. Damn it. This ones on me.
As you know, I was on the hunt for an authentic Philly cheese steak, and let me tell ya. It was an experience..
|Before I added the "hot" sauce|
I decided to go with Geno's because that is what my Twitter friends recommended.. and I'd say by the size of the crowd that we made the popular choice.
So, I made my way to the sauce counter to pick my poison. Hot sauce?!.. Score! It was even in one of those nifty ketchup pump things so I thought "perfect! I love hot sauce! This looks so yummy!" .... I sat down, had my first bite, and thought to myself.. this hot sauce has a bit of a bite and I like it. In a twist of irony, Mo sat down and said, "I hope this hot sauce isn't too hot because I put a lot on mine." We carried on eating our subs and conversing when all the sudden we both got completely silent.
HOLY SHIT THIS IS HOT!!! She was choking, I was coughing and gaging, we were both basically crying. At that moment we both made eye contact with our miserable tear filled eyes and started cracking up because at the time we didn't know what else to do about our pain. The only thing to temporarily dull the pain was to rub ice on your lips. That shit needs to come with a disclaimer!! It wasn't hot sauce, it was lava. This is what the disclaimer should look like: