Breathing on me

Anyone that breathes on me, unless requested, will be looked at with hairy eyeballs. I was in a church last Monday evening and the festivities were fairly well attended. I was sitting next to a few buddies of mine both of whom do not have this "thing" I have. When the main event got under way, we all hushed up to listen in since we are devout. Yes, devout.

It didn't take long for my ears to hone in on something. Somewhere behind me someone was snoring or drowning on their own blood and mucus. I completely turned around to scan the audience for a partially slumped over carcass, but to no avail. Within a minute, the situation took a dramatic turn for the worse. Now not only was I hearing this dull roar over the speaker, but I inhaled the distinct odor of halitosis. Trust me, I know what it smells like. I dated a girl who earned the nick name "Haley Tosis" unbeknownst to her. Suffice it to say, our relationship did not last the test of time, but the name is etched in stone.

At that moment, the circumstances of my dilemma became all to clear. The mutant behind me had an awful cold and a case of ass-breath to boot. Having put this together, I immediately craned my head slowly around so as to deliver the first round of hairy eyeballs. As anyone that has sat in a church pew for an hour knows, you often lean forward when you're sitting to break the monotony of just sitting straight up. If there is a pretty girl in front of you, you can also smell her hair, which is an added bonus. Who knows...maybe I was this guy's pretty girl. At any rate, my head is now pretty much in the pew in front of me so as to get as far away from the tainted air as possible. In my mind though, the air was embracing me just like the sleeves of a cashmere sweater tied around the neck of a yuppie prepster at the country club. I must seek sanitization.

Much like being on a plane, I typically prefer an aisle seat just for occasions like this. Bailing out is not an issue. On Monday, February 9th I was boxed between Chris and Todd. Damn it. Where's Batman when you need him? Just drop through one of the stained glass windows and swoop me up like Vicki Vale with one of those funky gadgets. All I can do is wait until it's over to get the hell out of there, but wait. What about that old shaking/holding hands part near the end? Shiiiiite. That would be the equivalent of receiving a stink-palm. Remember Mall Rats?

I stuck it out and then dodged this guy like Brother Dermot when I was late for homeroom. There was no jumping over pews, but I wasn't ruling it out either. I decided the best idea was to go load up on Air Borne Formula, and tell my tale to my main muchacha. She consoled me as best she could, God bless her. However, I think she may have a bit more in common with Chris and Todd when it comes to this "thing," e.g. not believing that this man should be treated as if he just contracted SARS and bird flu and was deliberately trying to infect me. I got home and took a shower and swore that if I was ever confronted with such a situation again, that I would do more than just look at him with hairy eyeballs. I would tell him to beat it and while he was at it, to gargle with bleach. There's a good chance I see him again this Monday. I think his name was Gary. Gary....who's Gary?