The Story of the Steamed Hand

This one friend of mine gave me really good advice once about how I should never stick my hand in the microwave.

It was a Friday night, January 7th, 2011 to be exact. Another friend and I had made plans to go out dancing, some sort of Michael Jackson tribute deal. We were on the guest list and everything. Well, all that really meant was that we didn’t have to pay the cover to get in, which I think was two dollars. And I think we were supposed to get free drinks. Totally VIP.

So I get home from work, take a shower, still feeling dirty and sweaty from the night before. You know, the night I stayed out drinking and dancing til 2am, after I had just made a New Years resolution to not go to work hung over. In my defense, I didn’t even have a slight headache the next day and I only felt slightly nauseous. And it was a Friday so it was okay to look tired, in my defense. Better than looking tired on a Tuesday or Wednesday. Days of the week are very important.

I’m done showering and put on some clothes I feel are appropriate for the occasion but still comfortable. Planning ahead is what I like to call it. I’m looking up on the internet when the next bus is scheduled to come because the plan was to meet up at his house for dinner at 7pm, and I’m running a little behind. Alright, I’ve got ten minutes. I better call to say I’m on my way. Or text at least. I think I’ll send a text.

Maybe two minutes later, I get a call.

“Hey! I’m just about ready to leave.”

“Mal… you’re going to hate me.”

“What!!! You’re not going?!”

“I’m sorry… I’m still tired from last night.”

“Oh, alright, I understand. Well I’m sure I’ll see you this weekend and have a good night tonight.”

“Alright, you too. Sorry again.”

Click.

Damn it, I was already on my way out! As long as I’m dressed, I might as well see what everyone else is up to. I just got paid today. I’ve got money to spend.

Ring ring.

“Hey whats up?”

“Nothing much, what are you doing tonight?”

“I hadn’t really planned on anything… I think I’m just going to stay in.”

“Oh, can I come over?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, I’ll be over soon.”

Well, since the dinner thing didn’t go as planned, I better eat something here, before the next bus comes. Alright, I’ve got another fifteen minutes. Let me stick something in the microwave real quick and eat it as soon as its done, then everything will be perfect.

Hmm, this frozen gyoza sounds pretty good right now. Easy to make. All you gotta do is put it in a bowl (microwavable of course), splash a little bit of water in there and cover it with plastic. Been there, done that.

Beep. The microwave is letting me know my food is ready. Except it doesn’t look right this time. The plastic is somehow lifted up and looks like its bubbly inside. Hmm. Let me open it up, I’m down to about ten minutes.

“Fuuuuuckkkkkk!!!”

That’s me yelling as I uncover the plastic and the steam under it blasts onto my finger. My left thumb, to be exact. “Fuck,” I think again. Why did I do that?

Oh well, gobble gobble. Mmm that was good. Let’s go.

At first I almost didn’t even feel it. It all happened so quickly. I looked at it and I knew it would hurt later. It wasn’t that red yet but it was definitely getting there.

I hop on the bus to make my way over to my destination (BART station). It’s cold out so I wear my gloves as I usually do when the temperature gets down to this level. Except I’ve got a little problem. My glove is irritating my steamed finger. I take it off, my hand is now cold and I’m not happy with the situation. It’s starting to hurt more and more. It’s turning redder by the minute. I should have put some kind of ointment on it before I left the house, damn it.

A few hours later, I say, “hey, you got any ointment or lotion of some sort that could help me out with this?”

“yeah, it’s my roommates, but you can use some.”

“Sweet.” I put some on and it makes my hand look really shiny. It makes me want to take a picture of it, which I do, and it turns out looking pretty damn cool. Later I will post this picture on the internet for everyone to see.

Moving forward in time, doing a little time traveling, I’m on the phone with this good friend of mine telling him The Story of the Steamed Hand, because he asked me, “Hey what happened to your hand?”

He listens patiently and then tells me I need to learn my lesson. I need to take this as a sign not to rush anything I’m doing and most of all not to stick my hand in the microwave when I’m not supposed to. I love this friend of mine so I tell him I appreciate his advice and that I will never stick my hand in the microwave again without waiting a minute or two first.