Bar Harbor Special
Last year, we went to Maine, and while dining at a restaurant, I had a close encounter with death. We’d ordered the Bar Harbor special, a blueberry lemonade drink, filled to the brim with ice cubes. So there I went, crunching on the tasteless ice cubes until a whole ice cube slid into my windpipe! Completely unable to breathe, I pinched my sister’s arm so tightly, my sister said afterward she thought I’d seen a bear in the restaurant. Staggering up, my dad hustled over and began to pat me on the back as you’d do to a coughing baby. I was quite sure I would die in the next few seconds, clutching at my throat as if I were a lunatic with my dad still performing his idea of first aid on a choking victim. Then, this big burly man at the table beside us rushed over and he came behind me to do the Heimlich maneuver until I vomited the cursed ice cube out. It was quite violent, but the ice cube was out, thank god. My head dizzy with shock and my hands trembling from panic, I was too overwhelme