Gazoontite!
There’s sex in the air, and it really blows.
That’s right…it’s officially springtime, the time of life, of love, of rejuvenation, the time when everything seems to be reproducing…especially the plants. And the evidence of this is carried on the wings of the wind in the form of pollen, that goldish-yellow dust that floats lazily along until inhaled. Upon inhalation this sexual powder can successfully wreak havoc on an unsuspecting person, turning them into a sniffing, dripping, and miserable wretch.
So thanks to airborne plant sperm, the beautiful colors of spring are seen through watery and swollen eyes. The melodious sounds of birds singing and the breeze rustling the freshly budded leaves and flowers are interrupted by loud sneezes and sniffing. And the general good feeling that comes with perfect weather is lost in the depths of the misery those of us allergic to pollen are hurled into.
Isn’t it appropriate how much the word pollen looks like swollen?
For the past 20 years, or at least as many of those as I can remember, misery and springtime go together like spick and span. It just doesn’t sound as catchy.
This year has been no exception. I can walk outside to the most beautiful day I’ve ever seen and be perfectly fine for about 5 minutes. Then that bane of my existence attempts to fertilize my nose, which results in a myriad of ill effects to over take my head and face.
First I sneeze, then I usually sneeze again, and soon sneezes are erupting from my face like lava from an angry volcano. At some point during this process, my nose attempts to flood this foreign and apparently life-threatening substance out. So I begin sniffing through my nose, which means more pollen enters my system and I succeed in grossing-out anyone within hearing range, but I keep the flood of mucus at bay and save my appearance.
Shortly after I get the sniffles, my tear ducts get inflamed and begin oozing…yes oozing. My eyes attempt to swell themselves shut and begin to itch for some reason that I’m sure can be reasonably explained scientifically, but is completely unknown to me. So I rub my eyes to wipe away the ooze they keep secreting, as well as to scratch the insatiable itch. To an outsider it probably looks as if I’ve spent the past 3 months crying.
The icing on the proverbial cake is the pounding headache that flares up from all the sneezing and sniffing. It feels a little like I imagine it would feel to have Hulk Hogan squeeze my head.
Even if you don’t know who Hulk Hogan is, just imagine what a guy with that name would look like and it’ll probably be close enough.
I think over these 20 years I have become a fairly good sneezer. Considering in my relatively short lifetime I have probably done this close to 3 gazillion times, I’d say I’ve had plenty of practice. But sometimes I screw up, and it’s usually at the most inconvenient times, i.e. the middle of class, during a sermon at church, while I’m sleeping.
If you have never undergone the experience I’m about to describe, then I’m sure you’ve seen someone that has, you might have even laughed at that unfortunate person. Maybe next time it won’t seem so funny.
So I’m sitting in class, probably not wanting to be there and unable to stop my mind from wandering around. The weather is incredible and to be inside seems like an insult to nature as a whole. My teacher is lecturing on deaf ears and is probably just as unhappy as his or her students, but will never admit it. And then I feel it hit me like a freight train…that deep tingle in my nose that warns me that I have to sneeze.
No big deal right? Most of the time it isn’t, my sneeze usually rings out in the mostly silent room and “bless you”’s will follow. But every once in a while it is a big deal. Instead of just simply sneezing, my body forcefully expels the irritant and gallons of mucus through my nose into my cupped hands.
Now I have two choices. I can awkwardly get up, interrupt class, and stumble to the bathroom with my hands and face covered in snot. Or I can listen to my boyish instincts and wipe my hands on my pants, creating snot marks on them for the rest of the day and maybe even the week if it’s my last pair of clean pants. Neither option is a good one because both are humiliating.
The people around me know what just happened and are probably sufficiently grossed out…and rightfully so. I even get grossed out and I created the mess.
Next time you’re around some unfortunate person, who this happens to, try not to laugh.
So if you haven’t had the good fortune to ever have your allergies act up, or fall into the depths of misery that allergies can open up for you, then try not to get too jealous of those of us who have and will the rest of our lives. It’s not as fun as I make it out to be.
And for those of you that have this so-called good fortune…God bless you!
