How the other half eats nachos

I went to one of those luxury suites for the football game on Saturday. One of those places where all the people drive helicopters to work and then get to work and realize that working is for people who don't own helicopters.

They had free food.

Me: Is this food really free?
My friend who is no stranger to helicopters: Yes.
Me: Really?
Friend begins to pretend she doesn't know me.
I make nachos. Chips. Salsa. Sour cream.
For some reason the cheese is not next to the chips. It's over here. And it's cold.
I think to myself 'huh, rich people cheese.'

I'm about halfway through my plate when the friend sits down.
Friend: How are the nachos?
Me: Good I guess. I'm not sure I'm into this rich people cheese.
Friend: Rich people cheese?
Me: It's kind of gross.
Friend takes a bite. Friend collapses on the floor. At first I think this is a reaction to rich people cheese and give myself credit for holding it together better than her. Then it becomes clear she's laughing.
Ten minutes pass.
Friend, still teary eyed: That's not cheese. It's yogurt cream for the strawberries.
Ten more minutes.
Friend, calm now, curious: I can almost understand how you made the mistake. What I don't get is why you kept eating.
Me: I really wanted to get invited back.