Water, water! (or How I learned that wasabi is cathartic)

True to the form of an overstressed varsity student, I chose to retreat to the Genki Sushi bar in school after my exhilarating Soci of Deviance paper instead of returning home to study for the next. The ambience in the sushi bar was surreal; the visual consistency and predictability of the conveyor belt dishes appeared to sooth the very heart of your soul. Unagi, egg (is that even fresh?), salmon (same question), funny brown tofu skin wrapped sushi with odd toppings varying from crabstick bits to silverfish, tub of wasabi, unagi, egg, salmon...repeat ad infinitum. So as per usual, I take up a wad of wasabi complemented with soy sauce, a sip of my ocha and proceed to devour. Maybe it was alittle too much wasabi, by now, Jap food lovers must necessarily already be acquainted with such incidences, when the wasabi-covered sushi is already in your mouth (i.e. it's too late, unless you wanna spit it out, but tak glam la) and then the past twenty years of your life flash by: The heartaches of breakups, the time when you broke your ankle, the first time you failed your exams, the first right hook you dealt. All these and more added up, could not suffice to exceed or match up to the pain you were experiencing this very instant, wasabi burning tongue, mouth, lips, and soul. And like all good cathartic drugs, the final culminating shot up your nose disappearing into the oblivion that is your brain-- brilliant. And as I sat there defeated by my masochism, shocked at my own ingenuity at the discovery of yet another form of instantaneous escape, I picked up the chopsticks and dipped the next sushi into the wasabi and....