Sounds dirty but isn't

I had the best damn tasting banana today. It was of the childhood-russian-summer variety banana which i wrote about a while back. It was yummy and made my crapy day a bit less crapful.
Here's the old post:


12:15 am - bannana stories
I was driving today and suddenly i smelled the strongest phantom smell of sweet bananas. That got me thinking of my childhood. You see, while growing up in the Motherland (Russia), bananas were a rare occasion, and every time i got to eat a banana it was a fantastical experience. I remember one summer, my dad brought a whole box of bananas to our dacha. It was so exciting to think i would be able to eat real bananas (not the small pathetic dried bananas). There is no adequate description i can offer in describing how good this precious fruits tasted. There was a special aroma and texture- basically indescribable. The thrill of eating bananas soon left me ater we arrived in the US. They lost their appeal (as did apples), however sometimes i'll bite into a just-right-banana and the pleasure i felt as a little kid overwhelms me, and i am brought to the happiness that was my childhood. Anyways, they say that smell is the strongest trigger of memory. I still sometimes wish i can look at certain foods and have the same feelings when i was a deprived child in Russia. Every good thing seemed to mean more. Maybe it's the huge consumer culture of America or maybe it's me growing up- but rarely does simple food excite me (although when i see cherries....watch out).
Another thing bananas remind me off is an incident that happened when i was in high school. I was sitting in and extremely hot class room, sometimes when it's hot my hands get itchy. I had a cool banana in my backpack. So i innocently pulled it put and held the banana in my hand (to cool my hands). Anyways, several of my friends claim that it wasn't that innocent. Especially since the class i was in was being taught by a teacher who i had a crush in. A little Freudian slip? I think not, but others claim it was pretty risque gesture. But my hands were hot!
It sounds more funny when my friend Phil tells the story - ok, well till the next perfect banana - me.