I Blame Nas

When I was a junior in college, I interned at MTV in New York City, which was one of the best experiences of my life. I took the train from Bridgeport, CT into Times Square three times a week to either assist the talent coordinator all day (he was on location about every week so I mainly sat at his desk and ate Willy Wonka candy) or help out on Total Request Live. When I was helping out on TRL, I would either prepare the cue cards for Carson Daly (who was a tad egotistical and snobby back then) or get the green room ready for the pop stars who would be coming in that day. One afternoon I was prepping the green room for the rapper Nas who wanted a specific grilled chicken salad from a specific deli down the street. So who was going to run and get it for him? Erin the intern, that's who. I hopped in a cab, picked up the salad and made it back to the studio in time to get it into the green room for Nas to eat for lunch. Usually after the show, we would clean up the green room and take any snacks that were uneaten- we were poor college students who were interning for free!

I noticed that Nas didn't touch his grilled chicken salad that I ran out of my way to get for him....the nerve! I checked with my supervisor and he said I could eat it, so I scarfed down Nas' salad and was a happy little intern. Until I got on the train home that is and my stomach started making weird noises. You know that feeling...the uncontrollable cramping in your stomach, the sweat beads rolling down your forehead. The 'why does this always happen when I am not at home' feeling? Luckily I made it home in time to get to the bathroom but I have never listened to a Nas song in the same light. I swear he gave me food poisoning...