Spitting

Alrighty folks, let's get our minds out of the gutter now. Lets go, up and at 'em. You can't spend all of your time down there. While it's an interesting and highly controversial subject, THAT is not what I'm talking about now.

It was a sunny, warm day on campus today. The birds were singing, a gentle breeze blew through the trees, it was spectacular. It's that peaceful time of the summer, where the spring semester has just ended but summer classes have not yet begun. No longer in the hurried, frenzied pace of having over 30,000 students on campus, a certain amount of tranquility falls upon those few who remain behind to tend to their duties. A purposeful walk from one building to another during the school year becomes a leisurely stroll soaking in the benefits of summer.

So it was today as I made my way to the Student Union to drop off some paperwork. Turning the corner on the Music Building, I started down a path where a woman was about 10 yards ahead of me. She was younger, probably a student, and a little on the large side. I didn't think much about it, just two people headed the same direction. Then it happened... she reared back, hocked up the biggest loogie she could muster from her corpulent figure, and spat that beauty out into the world with a force and determination not seen since the playing days of spitball king Gaylord Perry. Aerodynamically perfect, it soared into the air with an arcing trajectory much like a rainbow. It reached the apex of its mid-air journey and accelerated as gravity took hold and brought the spittle missile to its final resting spot on a building wall. Upon impact, it splattered there much like Nicole's blood did all over O.J.'s Bruno Magli's.

That may likely have been the most un-lady like moment I have ever witnessed. This feminine phlegm factory spewed forth this germ-ridden vileness with such a nonchalant, matter of fact attitude that I would surmise this wasn't the first time she's discharged in this manner. Oh yeah, this one is a keeper... the kind of girl you take home to mom and hope she doesn't flick a booger on the Thanksgiving turkey and fart during Midnight Mass. The Siren of Saliva in an instant ruined my entire lunch plans. It was going to be a light salad at an outside bistro, savored under a brilliant cloudless sky. I ended up going back to my office, cowering under my desk, and praying that somehow I could erase the preceding 30 minutes from my memory. No luck...