Crying into my squid

I thought I was hiding it well. An occasional sniffle, a sip of beer raised to my lips slowly to avoid giving myself away. When the waiter came over and pushed the napkin dispenser towards me with a sympathetic smile, I knew I had been caught. But it was my own fault, how dumb could I be- "No, I really do like it spicy!" I told my Thai waitress. She walked off with what I thought was a smile but may have been a smirk. The steaming pile of sauteed squid with spinach and chilies brought to my waterfront table looked amazing. I scooped a bit of steamed rice onto my plate and chose the juiciest looking pale white rings and a few pieces of spinach. Soon I was shoveling the delicious if nearly spontaneously combustible entree into my mouth, lips on fire, sweat beads covering my forehead- but this just made me eat faster- its when you pause that the real burning begins. But I wouldn't have had it any other way. A step or two spicier and it would have been inedible (to me; it would have been mild for the locals), but I enjoyed the local flavors and sinus clearing properties. The squid was tender and just a bit chewy, the spinach perfectly steamed, the chilies, well, damn hot.
The best thing about eating squid here, spicy or otherwise, is that it is straight from the boat. From my bungalow hammock I've been watching the fishing boats bright lights on the horizon each night. Eating the fruits of their labor has been my pleasure.