Spitting in the Wind

The other day I was busied and hurried trying to catch a train to the Loop in order to run an errand over lunch. (The Loop is only .5 miles [or less!] from my work but I take the train because? Am lazy!) I was just past the turnstile, when a lady turned to ask me if this was the train that was headed towards the Loop.

Normally, I hate strangers, but this day I was feeling helpful and generally not filled with disdain for my fellow man. (I’ve gone soft!) So I looked up and was about to tell her that yes she was headed in the right direction, but before I could get out that yes a giant ball of spit flew from my mouth.

This spittle took such an exaggerated arch on its way to her forearm that there was plenty of time for our eyes to go from each other to the flying spitwad back to each other.

I was mortified. How do you recover from that?

I didn’t even bother to finish my answer. I didn’t even apologize! Instead, I just ran.

And honestly, I really hope she finally found her way to the Loop, but I will never know. And that’s because I turned on my heels, and headed for the train going the opposite direction and rode it for two stops just to make sure I could put ENOUGH space between me and the embarrassment.