“Salsa has now passed ketchup as America's favorite condiment."

-Jay Leno

Sunday night was a special night for me. It was the night that my closest friends were going to come over to celebrate a trademark event.

My seventeeth birthday. It was to be a night of glorious fun. Of singing, and laughing, and dancing and having an all around good time.

For any occasion there are to be preparations made. One must provide the necessities all party goers look for at a fest. Primarily-food. So my mother and I piled into our family van and made our way to Hy-Vee, a popular grocery store, to look at some possibilities for the cake we wanted.

As I am still just an apprentice, and not yet able to be on my own, my mother actually, for once, let me drive. That helped make the experience all the more enjoyable.

So there we were, in the Hy-Vee parking lot, about to make our way in to preview a variety of all sorts of tasty tarts. We went inside to the brightly lit store, and were just hit by the rhythmic and soothing sounds of all sorts of foods and other items being checked out. To the chatter of customers and employees, and to the rolling of shopping carts. To the sizzle of food in the Chinese section of the store, to the awkward, yet strangely tranquil background music.

Going in there, I personally knew seven people. Lots of students work there. I've heard it makes for a good after school job, with flexible hours and understanding bosses and lots of people to ask in case you need somebody to cover a shift.

Well, my mother and I made our way to the bakery section. All of a sudden, I stopped. Right in front of me in a little half spherical case, was a plate of tortilla chips with a side of salsa. Taped so intricately on the plastic lid was a sign that read, "Sample".

Now, I have to tell you. I love tortilla chips, especially with salsa. I couldn't pass up such a treat. One thing, though, did confuse me. I would assume that the majority of the population share my sentiments on the deliciousness of chips and salsa. That did not support the fact that the plate of chips and the bowl of salsa was nearly full, a rarity for free samples so late in the day. But of course, my stomach won the battle and I took a chip between my fingers and scooped up a healthy amount of salsa.

Oh, the explosion. The salty, grainy taste of the chips mixed with the almost sweet taste of the salsa. It was an orgasm of the nutritional kind right in my mouth.

The feeling of ecstacy was immediately over shadowed by something else in the back of my throat. I realized then that there was a trail of fire leading from my stomach to the remnants of the salsa on my lips. And oh, how it burned. My nerves screamed for water, but there was none to be found.

My face and my eyes turned red and tears streamed down my face. I could not move because the pain was crippling. My mother's eyes widened as she turned and took in my gruesome appearance.

"Asmaa! What's wrong?"

I was parched. I could barely respond.

"The salsa..." was all I could manage to reply with. My voice came out raspy and dry.

My mother's face relaxed and she looked at me with an "I told you so" expression, I could only see no traces of sympathy, just amusement, at my situation.

"Water..." I tried shouting. But, alas, there was none. None to be had for the poor girl who put the wrong kind of salsa in her mouth.

My mother took me along and went back to the table on which the salsa was resting, she wanted to look at the salsa's description. It read:

Hy-Vee's Super Spicy Signature Salsa

Sample at your own risk!

"See, Asmaa, you never just eat something without at least looking to see what it is, first," she told me, exasperated. By this point, the ravaging effects of the salsa were subsiding and I was beginning to get the use of my mouth back.

"This experience has taught me a valuable lesson, Mom," I told her. "I will never eat salsa that spicy again."

To this day I have kept that promise to myself and never again will that salsa ever touch my lips.