Strange Fruit or A trip to the Gallows

Junior high: Stereotypically, like most males I was interested in mechanics, physics, and string theory. Certainly not in the classroom but in daily practice. In Junior High there was a whole slew of kids that discovered the adhesive powers of mucus and promptly shared it with their comrades. I was introduced to the fine art of Hangin' Loogies. The covered hallways of the school had relatively low ceilings, about 8 ft. high. One could muster up the phlegm in their throat and spit it onto the ceiling. With a little luck, skill, and knowledge, the Loogie or Luger, would suspend itself like a stalagtite for a time before falling. This sport developed into a cruder activity that involved a lookout for the Vice President and a battalion of the more skilled hanger boys. The Vice Pres wore a toupee and was notorious for giving detentions freely. The VP had a specific route he took from his office, so when properly spotted the message could be relayed down the halls to the Luger boys. They would practice their string theory in advance and then quickly move to a distance to observe the fortune of their hypotheses brought to the application of a moving target. The best of the Luger boys understood that if you had a cold, the body created more viscous phlegm. This translated into more hangtime.

This brings us to another point: Most of us have had a head cold and sore throat. After the initial runny nose and sneezing, there comes a time when the cold settles in the chest. Coughing is more severe and occasionally brings up very viscous phlegm. At this stage of the cold you want to do everything you can to rid your chest of this phlegm.

I've done a lot in the last few years to look respectable and act responsibly, but anybody that knows me well enough, knows what the polish is covering. Basically, the remnants of the boyish prankster. Schooling and a love of the arts have brought some sophistication, but for the life of me, I still find it ridiculously difficult to pass by the channel that plays Jackass, Wildboyz, or MXC.


Enter 2006: My junior high days long behind me, I'm dressed in a new shirt and sports coat that I've bought for an opening. I'm in my car on my way to the opening. It's just past 5 so there's a fair amount of traffic about. I'm getting over a cold but still have the painful chest cough. In the middle of driving I go into a coughing fit and inevitably break free some phlegm from the confines of my lungs. I'm not about to swallow it, so I roll down the window and try to spew it out with a great gust of blowing. Imagine my horror as it hits the top of my car window frame and swings back towards me. I freak out. Desperately trying to pull myself away from the monster I've created, and torn between driving responsibly and doing every sort of body movement I can to avoid the disaster while still holding onto the wheel and pedals, I just miss swerving into the car next to me and probably look like I'm having an epileptic fit or doing a swami dance. This foreign behemoth swings there like a pendulum for a good 10 seconds before grazing my shoulder and attaching itself to my sports coat.

If there is a moral to this story, it might be: Separate identities in a single individual eventually arrive at a face off.