Idle Ramblings of a Slightly Mad Man

I have not been able to shake this damn cough of mine.  It is now like two months and I have totally given up on my doctors.  I have had steroids, antibiotics and medicines that should be leaving me fit as a fiddle (How fit is a fiddle anyway?) and yet I still cough like my mother, who has been smoking for 40 years. 

Yesterday, I wrapped up my class and had just finished packing up and threw my laptop bag over my shoulder as one of my students walked up to me to talk and catch up on old times.  He is someone I have known over the years and used to work with in a past life.  He is one of those close talkers, you know what I am talking about, no respect for your personal space, the type that will stand toe to toe with you and likes to get right up against you to the point that if him and I were women and we had breasts our nipples would be rubbing against each other.  As it were, our nipples were almost rubbing against each other.

I am not ever one to back away from these types of people because I know it is what they like, making people feel uncomfortable in the conversation and in their presence, or at least this guy does.  Oh, and I forgot to mention that this guy is like 6′ 7″ and towers over my little 5′ 9″ frame. 

After talking all day, I can feel the cough wanting to come out, to be unleashed like the tiger it is.  I have been fighting it, controlling it and doing a damn good job of it.  As we stand there toe to toe, nearly rubbing nipples (ok, my nipples don’t reach his.  The reality is that my nipples would be rubbing his belly button and that is an image that even I don’t want stuck in  my head) a sudden and uncontrollable cough overtakes me. 

Being the gentleman that I am, and with the gracious manners my mother has taught me I covered my mouth, but not before this mucus launched out of my mouth like dragster out of the starting gate.  The guy politely waited until I was done coughing and then resumed his story without realizing what had happened.  There I stood, gazing at my phlegm, eye level to me and leaving me to wonder what to do next.  He didn’t see it.  He had no clue what I did.  If I say nothing, what is the big deal?  Who would know?

He paused in his story and stood looking at me like he was waiting for me to respond.  I had no clue as to what he was saying or even asking.  I wasn’t paying attention.  I was worried about the huge lugger on his chest.  What did he say?  What should I say?  Damn!  Now I am feeling uncomfortable for sure and it is not because he is standing over me and staring down at me.

I take a step back and away from him and I reach over to the table beside me and pull a tissue out of the tissue box and hand it to him.  “Here, I think you might need this,” I say as I walk past him. 

He stood there dumbfounded as I left the room. 

I am sure in a few months, when we cross paths again he will have a comment or two to say about what happened yesterday but that will give me time to come up with some sort of witty response.