Can I Kindly Choke to Myself?!

Nope, this isn't a blog about those winter flu, germ spraying circus seals that spread their funk about without a thought about covering their mouths. This isn't as serious as a drunken Republican lodging a pretzel in his throat in the recesses of the White House on NFL Sunday. This one's about me. Sitting by myself, at a restaurant, as I try to hide the fact that I've sucked a hunk of Arby down the wrong pipe like a pigeon into a jet engine. *HOOOARK* 

You know how it goes, I'm sitting there at lunch and paying attention to just about everything except the food going in my mouth. Reading sports scores, Tweeting about the food I should be paying attention to and *thunk* I have the Augustus Gloop of Arby bun inhaled into my windpipe. 

I can breathe. It's not heimlich worthy, but it's kind of quiet around, I'm in a visible seat and I don't want to make a production.

If anybody was looking, they probably saw me failing to be subtle about aggressively mouth breathing like the big, bad wolf prepping to blow down a multi-story steel structure. But, let's assume that wasn't the only symptom of my predicament. 

Apparently Arby's sauce, while innocuous in flavor, becomes rather spicy when creeping about your lung corpuscles. So, my eyes start watering like a colicky baby. That, of course, inspires a watery nose, which is hard to battle when you lack the wind to suck it in, or blow it out, as well as the long sleeves to go all third-grade smear tactic. (on a completely unrelated topic, I'm going to recommend against ever Googling images for scorching hot sauce without safe search on. MY GOD, who knew!?) 

But, back to me. I've got it together. I'm pretending to actively read my Twitter stream and not scream out the Yetti call that would easily dislodge the mishap. So, I'm subtly grunting like something that would be a great hit among the Tuvan throat singing crowd. At the same time I'm looking around to see if anybody is noticing. 

Well, nothing gets people to notice something meant to go unnoticed like looking around to see if anybody's looking. Dude in the booth adjacent to mine whispers to his wife, then subtly gives me the raised eyebrow, like, "you going to live man?"  I gave him the little wave, letting him know I'm a jackass and forgot how to eat, but I'll make it. He gives me the nod, chuckles and whispers it back to his wife, who has to look.

I'm pretty sure that attracted a few more looks as well. But, I hunkered down for the most intense 140-character reading session I could muster while trying to dislodge a flaming Pinto from my windpipe. 

Eventually I quietly rattled things loose enough to get me through my meal and wind service returned to normal. But, all wasn't clear yet, that is, until I got into the parking lot and finally let out that Yetti cry that sent Augustus Gloop flying from the pipes. I'm pretty sure I heard bigfoot return the call in the distance when, the guy from the restaurant emerged again and gave me the look. I, again, gave him the wave, and said, better now! He chuckled.