By the Starry Window- Digital Collage 4" x 6"

I look toward this year's upcoming Superbowl Sunday with trepidation. After last year's fiasco, it's fair to say I won't be seeing the game with any opthalmologists anytime soon. I would have thought the passage of time would have taken the sting out of the memory, but the event still haunts me.

It started out innocently enough. My friend, Larry the Opthalmologist invited me to join he and his friends for a Superbowl party. Larry put me in charge of appetizers. He informed me that while his bean dip was legendary in the opthalmology world, a few colleagues had asked if he could modify the recipe so that they wouldn't be so uncomfortable by half time. Being a perfectionist, Larry wouldn't tinker with his original recipe. Instead, he purchased a bottle of Bean-O, a flavorless enzymatic liquid additive that virtually eliminates the stomach's production of methane. Larry dropped the eye-drops size bottle onto his cluttered kitchen counter and asked me to add it to the bean dip. Tidiness has never been one of Larry's virtues and so I wasn't at all surprised to find the countertop overflowing with both ingredients and unfilled prescriptions. Nevertheless as soon as I popped a tray of cheese puffs into the oven I turned my full attention to the bean dip. I picked up what I thought was the Bean-O and added the entire bottle to the dip. I sprinkled some shredded cheddar on top of the ramikin of dip and slid it into the oven to melt. I removed it two or three minutes later. The melted cheese made a beautiful lattice pattern. Just as I removed it from the oven I heard the doorbell ring signaling the arrival of the first guests. Soon Larry's den was overflowing with ravenous opthalmologists. The rush for the food was so swift that I barely had time to dip two tortilla chips before it was all gone.

A few minutes later it felt as if someone had turned up all the lights in the room. I looked around and noticed other guests squinting or shielding their eyes from the light. When I looked around the room everything appeared indistinct. Augie Brauer stood by the large window at the back of the den trying to focus on his beer bottle. I peered over his shoulder memerized by the large white forms swirling outside the window. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and tried to make out the face, but then heard Larry's familiar voice. "Knucklehead," he said, "You added dilation solution to the bean dip instead of Bean-O. This would be fine if I was going to give eye exams to all of my friends, but as it is Superbowl Sunday no one here is going to be able to watch the game or drive home. Thanks for nothing." He stormed off leaving me to stew in my own embarassement and sense of dislocation.