Spitting indoors

by anonymouser

Hawking up phlegm, for Chinese people, is as natural and regularly occuring as breathing, it would seem. I’m sure I read somewhere that it’s believed to be necessary here for good health. All I can think when I hear it is – if I had that much phlegm on the regular, I’d be going to the doctor for a checkup. Or at least take some Vitamin C…How is it possible that you have THAT MUCH stuff in your throat that needs clearing in such a violent and frequent manner?

Regardless, it’s happening and I am becoming somewhat immune to the grossness. And there has been some grossness. Once when I had arrived at the airport in Hangzhou and walked inside the main entrance, actually inside the building, my hand happened to brush my skirt over my crotchal region and I felt – SPIT. I looked down and there it was.

Spit.

On me.

Someone had spit.

And it was on me.

I will never know exactly how it happened. At first I was filled with rage at the thought that someone would have intentionally spat on me. Then I told myself that that was crazy – it was an unfortunate crossing of paths. Which is not impossible. For my sanitys sake, I must believe that this is the correct explanation. There had been a group of guys just outside the door smoking (and spitting, of course. For future reference, spitting will just go without saying).

Once I dropped my sweater on the ground at work and when I picked it up, there was a wad of phlegm on it, from the ground.

Last week I was walking through the machine room at work when I heard a guy behind me hawk, and what sounded like spit. I told myself he MUST have used a tissue or some other mode of containment to capture the loogie. I didn’t turn around to check.

But a couple of days ago I was at the airport lining up to go through security when I heard it again. And this time there was no mistaking. This guy spat on the floor in the middde of the security line at the airport.

Spit on my jumper, after I dropped it on the floor.

I pretty much give up at this point. I thought I could deal, but I know now that I probably can’t. I’m giving myself 12 months. We are 4 and counting now. Tick, tick, tick…

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