I stepped into Scoop Du Jour in Madison Park, and two servers, a shorthaired young man and a redheaded woman, stared at me. I looked back at them, then at the two ice-cream cabinets. “This might take awhile,” I said. “I need to purchase exactly or close to exactly $13 of ice cream.”“You want $13 of ice cream?” said the man. “Why?”“It’s an assignment,” I replied.“Oh man, that’s a cool assignment. I want to be in that class.”I didn’t think to correct his mistake. I was too busy looking over the different flavors, like a wolf meticulously scanning a pigpen. Deciding to diversify, I ordered a small hot-fudge sundae, a scoop of raspberry sorbet in a waffle cone, and a mint Oreo malt. It did not appear too intimidating, and I really thought I could eat the items solo.I was wrong.First, I started chomping away on the sundae—a scoop of Dreyer’s Fudge Tracks ice cream topped with sticky hot fudge, whipped cream, and chopped nuts. Midway through, I got a phone call informing me I was late for a shift at work.I crammed down my sundae, and with a malt in one hand and a waffle cone in the other, I ran to the nearest bus stop. I waited at the bus stop a few minutes, slowly eating my cone. It was a refreshing treat for the hot day, but soon my stomach put up an out-of-order sign. I ignored it.After I finally downed the cone, the bus showed up. I hopped on and took a seat. Chug…chug…chug. After a minute, I realized it would be an excruciating ride. With every bump, which the bus makes it easy to feel, my stomach gurgled, threatening to expel its contents.Sitting quietly, I put some alt-country in my ears to distract me from the nausea. I sipped on the malt, receiving envious looks. But I would have gladly let someone else have it, because my chest began tightening up and my legs started getting numb. Chug…chug…chug. More bumps. Gurgle…gurgle…gurgle. More stomach protests.I looked around, hoping I would spot something to distract me further. All around me were severely overweight, middle-aged men. I looked down at my malt, which was about three-quarters finished, then back to the men.Screw it. I failed, but I’d rather toss the rest than try to stomach it.