Last week while out with the Boy Scouts on Cycling merit badge I treated them to pizza and soda. After ordering I quickly realized my mistake; the same week Mayor Bloomberg’s trying to eliminate super-size sodas, I order up 5 large ones. It won’t happen again.
Maybe it was cosmic payback, it just occurs to me, when I choked on my soda. It went down the wrong way and in 2 seconds I’m coughing my head off. I’m coughing so much everyone feels compelled to ask if I’m ok. The only way I can think to signal that I’ll survive is with my first breath, “Wow, that’s good stuff,” which lightens the mood.
I recover and pedal home; it’s not till the middle of the night when I wake up coughing again that I realize, I’ve picked up acute bronchitis. I continue to cough through the night for the next several days.
My schedule takes me to Seattle and I think I’ll be fine, but, can you picture it? As we’re about to land, maybe it’s the decompression in the cabin, I start coughing and can’t stop. The entire cabin is freaked out.
Of course, this malaise isn’t contagious; I’m the only one suffering. And coughing so hard I feel I’m gonna break a rib. A few days later my neck is hurting; I feel like the Tin Man in need of an oil can. My neck is hurting so much I get the idea a new pillow might help. And why buy just one?