OOS

Overactive Observation Syndrome is both a blessing and a curse. Seeing things others don’t notice helps keep my spinning brain busy and it also aids in writing. The curse part is once I notice something I can’t make it go away. Case in point; today on my flight home…

I sat down in my seat wanting to put as much distance between myself and Lafayette Louisiana as I could. Lovely people I went to work with but you can have everything else including their “world famous” food. This is partially my fault because I ate like an asshole but in my defense it was all things I’d never had before. Kolaches are these delicious savory breakfast sandwiches fresh baked that you get from various donut shops. They are sneaky. I swear a couple of them jumped down my throat when I wasn’t paying attention. So fresh and so good they showed up every day and I was helpless in their presence.

Then for lunch we were at an old fashioned Cajun buffet restaurant that changed the menu every day. I made a huge faux pas by asking if something was Creole which led to a ten minute heavily accented and s l o w lecture on the difference. I’ll save you the trouble… Creole is New Orleans and something about tomatoes. Anyhow, nighttime had me eating some weird shit. Turtle soup was not as awful as it sounds. First, it’s not this cute little things you buy at the pet store. These are the dinosaur descendants that will take a chunk of your flesh without a problem and come back for more. It’s served with a shot of sherry and a scoop of something I didn’t care to learn what was but the taste wasn’t terrible.

More from the We Can’t Kill All Of ‘em So We Might As Well Eat ‘em menu included alligator a couple ways and some snake. Truth be told the only way I powered through some of the things was with fresh bread chasers. And then I’d get back to my hotel room and enjoy a couple hours of random stabbing intestinal discomfort. Good times.

This was the view from said hotel room and it about sums it up.

So I’m on the plane and another big bald gentleman sat down two rows up and opposite me. I was looking his way in case he turned around so I could give him the not so secret club acknowledgement but then became focused on the back of his neck. Some fellows of size and a specific body type develop a series of rolls at the base of their skull. It looks a lot like a pack of hotdogs and this dudes were prominent and permanent. That is worth mentioning because most big folks can create at least one or two by tilting their face up to the sky (myself included) but this dudes were always there.

Sadly those were not the thing I couldn’t unsee. While glancing at them trying to get an accurate count of how many were on the roller (gas station hotdog reference for those with unsophisticated palates) he swiped a finger in and across one of the crevasses. Again, not a big deal, skin on skin contact causes sweat but this motherfucker! I’m having trouble typing it. (oh well, we’re here already so I might as well finish.) This complete savage proceeded to smell his finger with the intensity of a cigar aficionado.

My stomach was already dealing with reptile overconsumption and this almost had me reaching for the shockingly small barf bag. Seriously, what is the point of that thing? I could sneeze it full. Sorry. Tangent partially averted. Anyhow, I looked again later when I peripherally noticed his arm go up but I kept my head in my book. I don't want to know what the hell he was growing back there… and this from the guy who is curious about EVERYTHING.

I write this to you now in an attempt to exercise the entire subject from my existence but I’ve got a feeling that this has a permanent spot on internal my gag reel. That’s pre-vomit convulsion not funny outtakes. Hopefully I’ve at least spread the love. And as the cherry on this awful post for those out there triggered by the word, I will leave you with… That entire state was MOIST.

You’re welcome.