After deciding to buy tea instead of a bagel, thinking it will keep me from feeling fat and bloated before I even eat lunch, I take my first sip out of the straw and feel that hitch. You know the kind! The hitch in my breathe/swallowing where I KNOW, I just know, that I've gotten some down the wrong pipe.
Immediately I cough, and oh crap, I can feel it in my nose.
I am gasping for breath and trying to clear my throat and cough without sounding like a TB patient. I am failing. All essential wind is being involuntarily forced out of me with jagged pre-vomit intensity coughing, and whats worse is that my face is getting all red. My eyes are watering up. It looks like I'm weeping. I'm still walking through the dining side of the caf and suddenly I see, oh great! Esteban, Lorenzo, Mazatlan, Puerto Rican, whatever, worker boy is over there leaning against a cart full of silverware. Its like he's watching me pass and I'm DYING.
"Went down the wrong pipe." I mutter at him in my half-gagged voice. I take a few steps past him, tears stinging my eyes, before coughing a few more drops of tea out of my windpipe.
Ew. I totally want to retch just thinking about it.
Anyway, I don't suppose I have to worry about Mazatlan down there anymore. Hopefully he'll think I have tuberculosis and am dying a slow and painful tea-induced death.
I want to be uncomplicated. I don't want my mind all wandering when I look at Mazatlan leaning against a cart on my way out. Its better if he thinks I'm a disease. That way I won't even notice him.
AND my dishes will be extra clean.
Because he'll be worrying about my residues infecting other diners.
So really, its a good thing I almost died drinking my tea downstairs today.
My fail becomes a win!
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