ah carribean chicken. Great memories!

In costa rica, we found a hotel owned by witnesses, and when we told them we, too, were witnesses, they invited us to a delicious meal of carribean chicken. We shaved, and showered--not just because we were invited to stick around for dinner, but because the Circuit Overseer (Superintendente) was going to be there.

Well, I got my nice pants and shirt together, put a spritz of cologne, and headed to dinner. Once there, I found a cramped little seat on the edge of the table, and squeezed in. (They now had 4 extra guests, so space was tight!)

Dinner was delicious! I started in on it, and went to scoop up some more rice with the carribean chicken sauce, and misjudged how near my plate was to the edge. FLOOP! It dumped into my pants!

Well, how embarrassing. In front of the CO, no less. I got a broom, and swept up my mess, first. Then I ran to my room crying. Well, not crying. I just ran and changed my shirt and pants, and came out, and they served me a tiny bit more. It was still delicious, but this time I had it with a side of humility.