I’m not a total germ-o-phobe. Not completely. But, I will admit, I teeter some times more than others on that cliff of wanting to run and find a bubble to safely live within. You know, that super moist sneeze that sends millions of particles into the air next to you, the person who wipes their nose on their hands and then reaches out to you for a hand shake. Yeah, those moments. Those don’t-show-it-in-your-face-don’t-turn-and-run moments when you offer a polite “bless you” all the while your internal voice is screaming to “use your sleeve”!
But most of the time I can cope politely as I slip off to wash my hands, reach for my hand sanitizer or quickly sing a happy jingle in my head to distract from the probable plague that was just launched near me and the fact that a full shower is hours away. But, there’s one thing I struggle with most of all. The airplane sharer.
You know that guy. Picks his teeth, rubs his eye, wipes his nose in the same hand he puts the tray down and touches every magazine, button and surface in reach. Yep, you know that guy. My nemesis. The stomach-churning-nose-wiping-germ-sharing-clueless-hello-the-world-can-see-you-pick-your-nose guy.
No thank you sir. No mi gusta.