2️⃣108: The King of Nuggets 🍟 (FACES OF DEATH 3/??)

Do you remember that time after the early lockdown in 2020 and before the big push of “everything is fine, tens of thousands of people are meant to die, please go outside for the sake of my company’s stocks” in 2021 that was actually kinda sort of fun and free?

CAVEAT: I understand the sentence above might not be well received by everyone. I’m aware I spent “lockdown” in the least restrictive “lockdown” of the entire planet (Florida / South Florida). I’m also aware that 2020-2021 was very different for everyone. Some of us were lucky enough to still have a job we could do from the comfort of our homes, while many others were forced to roam the streets delivering food for the adults who still don’t know how to cook for themselves or working essential jobs while being treated as disposable by the powers that be and in the minds of most people. I’m also lucky to say that I wasn’t personally impacted by COVID-related deaths, and the worst thing that happened was the slight inconvenience of having to stay home 90% of the time because everything was closed. I don’t mean to diminish anyone else’s experience during that time or their continued experience with the aftermath of what they went through ❤️‍🩹

Now that we have that out of the way…

Do you remember that time after the early lockdown in 2020 and before the big push of “everything is fine, tens of thousands of people are meant to die, please go outside for the sake of my company’s stocks” in 2021 that was actually kinda sort of fun and free?

People in New York City and other places that take public health semi-seriously were still shuttered away in their homes and apartments, agonizing over the sounds of non-stop ambulances carrying bodies that would end up piled up in morgues and other less-than-sanitary means of disposal.

Florida was not doing this.

Florida was #FREE 🍊

Florida was fighting the good fight against draconian government restrictions. You know the ones I’m talking about. No, not the restrictions of what an individual is allowed to do with their body or their pregnancy. Not the restrictions of whether an individual is allowed to love someone of the same sex openly in public without fear of violence from others. Not the restrictions on whether a dude can wear a dress in public because it actually looks 🔥 and it doesn’t hurt anybody, and everybody should try it because the heat and humidity get unbearable at times. Not the restrictions of learning about the history of the millions of people who were uprooted and enslaved to build the foundations of this country while destroying generations of families in the process. Not the restrictions of whether or not people who aren’t “mature enough” to have a beer should be legally allowed to carry a machine that can end someone’s life with a single movement of their finger.

I’m talking about real restrictions.

Restrictions like having to wear a piece of cloth over your face for 15 minutes while walking down the cereal aisle at Publix.

In late-2020 and early-2021, things were pretty chill down here if your immediate family members weren’t dying and you had some sort of income. The bar scene was a little different. Instead of the masses of crowds dancing next to overpacked tables, everyone had separate tables where you had to remain seated while servers brought you drinks. Not gonna lie; ordering drinks from my phone and never having to wait in line at the bar was one of the best experiences ever. I will always support the option to do that.

Most younger people (mid-to-late 20s, early 30s) were still living their lives here, partying and gathering together without thinking about the consequences of what would happen the day after we all spent a night breathing each other’s air without any sort of mask.

I was one of these people (for better or worse).

One night, a friend was having a birthday party at their apartment, conveniently located a few floors above my apartment. I went to this party. I had a great time at this party. Two of my closest friends, a couple, were also at this party. Late into the night, as the party was winding down and people made their way to the exit, one of my friends turned to me and said, “I’ve been drinking too much to drive home. Is it cool if we just stay over at your place so we can drive back tomorrow sober? Let’s order McDonald’s and watch Harold & Kumar.”

Say less. It was the perfect plan.

I love McDonald’s. I love Harold & Kumar.

We got to my room, and they immediately commandeered my bed as I found Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle on streaming and placed an order for 60 nuggets, 6 large fries, 3 sodas, 2 McFlurrys, and 4 (plain) Jr Bacon Cheeseburgers. It was my kind of night.

As the food arrived, I looked over to see they were PTFO (mami, that means PASSED THE FUCK OUT, se quedaron 10/7).

The next morning, we all woke up hungover, drank some water, and they spared no time heading to their car to drive home.

They didn’t eat any of the McDonalds I ordered.

At first, I was upset they had gotten me excited to order all this food only not to have any of it. But then I remembered I had recently gotten a new air fryer and had more plans to go out that night. There would be a feast of deliciously greasy food waiting for me at home whenever I returned. Plenty to look forward to.

I got home that night, slightly drunk, with a single thought in my mind, “I have so many fucking nuggets and fries waiting for me. This is about to be glorious.”

I proceeded to reheat two large fries and ~30 nuggets in the air fryer. Before I keep going, let me take a pause to tell you something very important. The best fast food nuggets aren’t McDonalds, or Wendy’s, or Burker King (Puerto Rico), or even Chick Fil A. The best fast food nuggets are McDonalds nuggets reheated with an air fryer.

They’re crisp

They’re crunchy

They’re slightly chewy

They’re that perfect temperature of food: warm and fresh, but not too hot that you can’t bite into it without slightly burning yourself and having to hold your mouth open like an idiot, trying to pretend you’re enjoying it. So hot all you really want is to spit it out because it’s too hot, but you can’t do it because people are watching, and you don’t want to waste food.

Yeah, nuggets reheated in an air fryer are that good. Try it sometime. Thank me later 😉

I sat on my futon, right in the middle, the same spot I had been sitting in since 2015. The same spot that had the perfect shape for my thighs and butt. I turned on the TV, fast-forwarded to the part of Harold & Kumar where I had left off (when they first got to Princeton), and proceeded to enjoy a feast delivered the previous night at 3am by someone who should get paid way more for what they do (you should always tip at least 20% on delivery, coming from someone who’s done delivery).

4 nuggets

5 nuggets

8 nuggets

12 nuggets

Fist full of fries

More nuggets

More fries

Wash it down with an ice-cold Coca-Cola in a chilled glass jar with a coozie to keep it cold.

More fries

More nuggets

I was feasting. I was gorging.

I was bringing new meaning to the word glutton, and I was loving every second of it.

That’s when it happened. My throat felt tight. My chest felt tight. My stomach was full (of gas). I shrugged it off; nothing a nice long burp couldn’t fix. I opened my mouth, and cocked my chin forwarding ready for the gas to expel so I could continue indulging.

But nothing happened 😐

No big deal, I’ve never been good at burping anyway. Just need to push a few more times.

I opened my mouth, cocked my chin forward, made a slight UGHH noise as I attempted to push the air trapped inside my guts out.

But nothing happened 😳

Okay, don’t panic. You’ve been here before. Just breathe.

Deep breath in through your nose, out through your mouth. Then take a few sips of air in through your mouth and feel the release.

I opened my mouth, cocked my chin forward, and once again, nothing happened 😰

Okay, this is getting weird now. I need to breathe. I know I can breathe. But this gas is stuck inside me, and it’s not letting me breathe. Don’t lie to yourself. You’re still taking breaths. Yeah, but not enough breaths. I’m taking breaths, but I still feel like I need more breaths. I need more air. It's like when you surface from underwater and take a big gulp of air only for a wave to hit you in the face and undo all the progress you made. I’m starting to feel hopeless. This has been going on for longer than any non-burp has ever gone on in my life. This isn’t one I can just walk around with. I need to let this shit out. Not just to keep eating nuggets but so I don’t die. Holy shit, don’t die. Please don’t die. You can’t die like this. This is so embarrassing. I can’t go out like Elvis on the toilet, pants down and constipated with three months’ worth of unreleased bowel movements in my stomach. What is my mom going to say? What are people going to say that is going to hurt how my mom feels? Will I be known as the guy who went out because he ate too many nuggets and died on his couch watching Harold & Kumar? Will Kal Penn speak at my funeral? Will he deny they had anything to do with this incident? Did I remember to tip my delivery person at least 20%? I still can’t breathe. I’m really panicking. Lean over to the side maybe that will— STOP LEANING OVER IT’S NOT HELPING. HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT. PLEASE, NOT LIKE THIS. NOT LIKE THIS. THIS IS SO EMBARASSING. I have so much left to do. I can’t do this to my parents. Here lies David, he died eating too many nuggets on his couch. The nuggets were a day old people would say. “I don’t eat anything that’s left in the fridge overnight,” the friend who has enough money to always buy new food would say at my funeral. “Maybe if he wasn’t such a picky eater he would’ve had something else that doesn’t kill you.” “His writing wasn’t even that good if we’re being honest.” I haven’t made the playlist for my funeral. I haven’t had a family. I’m still in debt. This can’t be it. THIS CAN’T BE IT.

Finally, it happened.

I survived.

If you enjoyed this story and want to read about other times I almost died, you can find the original Faces of Death posts here and here.

If you’re keeping track of this cool cat’s nine lives, here’s how we’re doing:

1. Almost died when I slipped and fell playing basketball around my friend’s pool (same friend from this story, actually, is there a pattern?)

2. Almost died painting graffiti in Madrid, jumping down from a second floor (same friend loves Real Madrid just like me, correlation?)

3. Almost died driving to work (going to my first big marketing job after studying marketing because the same friend told me I’d be good at it, is he trying to kill me?)

4. Almost died like Elvis, but from eating too many nuggets at a time sitting on my couch.

Shoutout to my mom, who was very upset with me after the first two Faces of Deaths emails and told me never to write something like that again. I hope this one was at least funny.

PS

I told myself I’d keep it this email to fewer than 1000 words. We’re currently at 2,044. I’m sorry, Asher, I’m really trying.