Never have I ever …

By Brianna Randall

On our visit to the village and island ruins, adventure surrounded me. From feeling the esophageal burn of rice wine to sharing a green coconut and shamelessly allowing juice to run down our sweaty chins, my travel writing peers and I experienced priceless moments.

But towards the end of the reporting trip, every other member of the group wanted to do the unthinkable. They wanted to eat a cricket! Up until this point, I was willing to experience anything that made for a good Facebook status, but this was too far. Peer pressure had lost its pull and the paranoid instincts that every prudent mother instills into her child set in.

“Uhmm, I dunno if this is a good idea,” I hesitantly said as they each ignored my statement and so effortlessly threw a critter into their mouths.

Oh, how those loud crunches made me cringe and almost regurgitate on a Khmer fruit stand once I saw Elizabeth pick a leg out of her teeth. These people, these intelligent beings that I once respected now were nothing more than Western barbarians to me. After much thinking, I have come to the conclusion that the bit of social acceptance that I sacrificed would never outweigh the satisfaction of proudly saying that never have I, the typically narrow-minded American, ever eaten a cricket.

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