Last night, I took a cab home on the advice of the hubby. While at home, I attempted to plot a Google Maps route to my office that would not entail brushes with vehicular death on ill-planned VA—>DC roads. Unsuccessful with such plotting, I had a decision to make this morning—drive to work on the clusterf*ck known as Route 50, or take the Swine Flu Express?
I decided to risk the Swine Flu Express, since cases had not yet been reported in my immediate area . . . although DC is smack dab in between reported cases in New Jersey/New York, and North Carolina. First, I packed my bag with a handful of tissues, to be used as I await the shipment of my N95 face masks. Second, I also packed a bottle of alcohol-based hand sanitizer (vanilla scented, thank you very much). As I descended into the Metro, I became overwhelmed with a familiar scent—the smell of burning rubber. Such scent became far more alarming . . . if the burning rubber scent from within the depths of the Metro tunnel could travel upwards to become detectible from the top of the Metro escalators, it became more conceivable that airborne viruses and pathogens could spread just as easily.
Finally, I entered the depths of the Metro and and had the opportunity to enter a packed train headed toward DC. While most saw a packed train with an opening for entrance, I saw this:
Since I did not have my Hazmat suit (how the hell do you buy one of these things?), I decided to wait for the next train. The next train came and was moderately filled, with sufficient spacing in between standing individuals that would enable me to insulate myself with my makeshift mask. However, as I thought about stepping into the train, I noticed a woman wiping her nose with what appeared to be a tissue that had become so overloaded with virus-filled mucus that it had formed a hard, moist ball that contained sufficient pathogens to off a small city. The woman’s head was tilted downward, and her forehead appeared to have a few beads of sweat, indicating a fever. In other words, she looked a little like this:
Needless to say, I backed out and waited for the next train. Finally, the next train arrived and was moderately empty. I located a standing position in which I was blocked from potential pathogens with a door and a wall, thus limiting my exposure to a half-circle around my body. I steadied myself for the bumpy ride using my legs, being careful to never touch anything in the Metro. I exited one stop early, bursting out but careful in avoiding contact with other individuals. As I came out from within the depths of the Metro, I slathered hand sanitizer all over my hands and wrists—and maybe a little on my exposed forearms for good measure.
Tina Fey, if you hire me to be on your staff, I promise to be totally free of swine flu. I’m taking all the necessary precautions right now. And I’ll totally fit in with your writers. I’m creative. I’m hard-working. I’m personable. And who wouldn’t want to spend hours in a writers’ room with someone donning a face mask and goggles, and applying hand sanitizer on the hour?
Discover me, Tina Fey!