¡Uy, Mi Cabeza!

When I inaugurated Would You Rather Wednesdays, it was not my intent to declare winners at all. The goal was merely to ponder oddball questions and implement discussions on same. However, as no decent debater would ever fess to: I know when I'm beat. And last week, we all were.

As you may recall, last week’s choice was between getting stood up for your prom or taking the date of your dreams and having them leave with someone else. The general consensus, with one or two exceptions, was that we would rather be stood up, but the winning answer came from my cousin Donna. I always thought she was so cool anyway when I was little, but if I’d known this I might have gone ahead and just decided to be her. Here’s what she said:

How's this. Both of my senior prom dates wore blue tuxes (1978). I had a date for the prom and one after the prom. And oh yeah, date at the prom took off with someone else. He was my old boyfriend. My new BF had a date that already bought a dress and I wouldn't let him officially "dump" her until after she got to wear the dress. But would I rather be stood up? No WAY! Being abandoned at the prom wasn't so bad, I got to socialize with more people I think.

Not only did she have two dates, but she managed to make that sound like a nice thing, and get sympathy for having one of them take off.

Winner!

I don’t know if there’ll be a winner this go-round or not, but we are off (like a proverbial prom dress). Just to remind you, the game is really called Zobmondo, you can buy it here, and the only rule is that if you're going to play you have to choose: you're not allowed to say "neither" or come up with a third option.

Got it? Okay. Gather 'round…

The category is Food Ingestion, so the squeamish among you may wish to recuse (although, as Food Ingestion questions go, this one is not so bad)…

Would you rather suck down a 64-ounce frozen drink in 60 seconds – OR – eat the icing off two enormous wedding cakes?



Okay, here’s a story for you:

When I was fifteen years old (sixteen? I don’t remember) I did an exchange-student program thingy and spent a month (six weeks? two? I don’t remember) in Granada, Spain. While we were on the plane on our way over, our poor faculty chaperone’s older brother died, so pretty much as soon as we landed she got on another plane and went back home. Leaving us, a bunch of sixteen-year-old girls (and one not-so-lucky boy) alone for a day or so till her replacement came.

Did you know there is no drinking age in Spain?

That first day, actually, we didn’t do so bad. We were still intimidated by the strange money and the stranger language (a language which, incidentally, we'd all been studying for seven years, but those people don't pronounce their s's! Who ever heard of dropping a perfectly good consonant for no apparent reason? Weihd.). We did, of course, go immediately to a bar and order a cerveza, but then we pretty much just giggled and ran back to the hotel.

Her replacement, though, was a fresh-out-of-college 21-year-old, whose only response thus far to us acting up in class had been to say “You guys. Come on.” She had no idea how to rein us in on foreign soil. And when we discovered that not only could we order cervezas in corner bars, but could also buy Bacardi off of supermarket shelves, there was no stopping us.

Unfortunately, we were still sixteen years old. An age when “no stopping” and “Bacardi” ends in broken toilet seats and puke stains on hotel floors. ("What is that awful stain?" asked our Dozy Chaperone, and shook her head when we refused to answer. That was the extent of her disciplinary act.)

So the point is, I don’t know if I could or not, but I would much rather suck down the frozen drink. Because I like frosting (which is what that sugary stuff on cakes is really called, no matter what the printed game-card says). I like frosting a lot. And I don’t know what might happen if I ate two wedding-cakes worth.

But I do know I haven’t been able to enjoy a rum drink in twenty years.


You’re up: What would you rather do?