On ninja moves and exploding choco.

There are times when a hero is needed. When the darkness of the days demands an explosion of light. Well, this is not that time and I am not that luminous breakthrough.

But I am a ninja.

I bet you didn't know that. Neither did I until last night.

It was a Saturday night just like any other Saturday night. Things were moving along. I was taking tables and making money as always. And just like any other night I reached for a white plastic syrup pitcher. That's when it happened.

I dropped it.

Now you have to understand. The clatter of these plastic pitchers on the tile floor is much like cat claws on a chalkboard to me. It's loud, the pitch is shattering, and it doesn't seem to stop for a whole 5 minutes. I could not, WOULD not suffer through 5 minutes of ceaseless plastic on tile. It's lucky that these plastic pitchers are also rather bouncy. One impact on the right edge and they will reach heights to rival your average 25 cent bouncy ball. Because of this I was able to reach out my hand and catch the wily pitcher before it hit the ground again. In my sudden relief, I loosened my grip and the pitcher fell again. Again I caught it (lucky me) but this time it reached only the tip of my fingers. The smooth white plastic slipped from grasp but I would not let it fall a third time. With that same hand I reached out and grasped wildly. I played a little game of one-handed hot potato for several seconds until the Ninja in me was manifest.

It was all a blur and there is only one witness in the world who can confirm events as they occurred. As I played hot potato the horizontal arc of my arm widened. That is to say, the pitcher was getting farther and farther away from me and my left arm was moving in a kind of semi circle in a counter clockwise fashion horizontal to the ground. As you all know, if you hold your hand out, palm cupped and facing up (I want you to try this. Go ahead, extend those arms!) and then move that arm toward your back not (and not twisting at the waist) it eventually becomes easier to twist your arm around and point your arm so that your palm is facing down. Try it. About the time you get to mid waist flip your arm over and then as you get further still you bend your arm at the elbow and your hand is facing up again. It is this way that we are able to reach those hard to reach places when we scratch our back. Well, that's the route my arm took the last time the pitcher hit my hand. I caught it and in an attempt to keep it in my cupped hand I moved my arm back and bent my elbow. The pitcher was propelled out of my hand at top speed and into an alcove where we keep dishes. It slammed full force into a bowl and that bowl was shattered.

This all happened in about two, maybe three blinks of an eye. It was amazing. No one knew what happened. All they heard was a crash and then they saw was a pitcher lying next to a shattered bowl.

Okay, you had to have been there. But I am a ninja. I promise.

That same night, the coolness I bought with the ninja move was canceled out 10 fold. There was a tiny rush. Not much. I had 3 tables and a 5 top get sat all within 5 minutes. And all the tables seemed to be needy. Needless to say there was much rushing around. One table ordered all hot choco's. But the machine that makes this delicious drink was out of powder and so was producing chocolate colored water. Instead of finding a knife or a pair of scissors, I decided that I could open the bag of hot chocolate powder by holding a side of the bag with each hand and pulling, much like you do a bag of chips. At first there was no give. Then there was a little give and I thought, "piece of cake". But before the "cake" part of that thought was even fully manifest there was an explosion.

An explosion of hot choco powder.

In an instant everything in a 2 foot radius of me was covered in brown chocolaty dusting. I stood there helplessly and in shock for several moments and then my coworker arrived (the one who had witnessed my ninja move). She took one look at me and burst out laughing claiming that I was just making her night. She helped me blow off and dust off as much powder from my uniform as I had time for (if you remember I was running around trying to get things done) when my food came up. So I took it to my table and explained the situation. All were sympathetic as they took in my bepowdered form. My table of very chatty and amusing guys said that I smelled so good that I was not allowed to leave the table. I told them that smelling me would cost them extra.

Needless to say, it was a crazy night and overall not one of the best nights of my life. But it just goes to show that you can't be a ninja and a Sarah Lambson at the same time. It's just one of those scientific laws I suppose.