One evening I felt like I was coming down with a cold. I stopped into a pharmacy near my apartment in Amsterdam, and picked up a tube of 1,000 mg Vitamin C tablets. I could read just enough Dutch to know that they were orange-flavored and delicious.
I left the store, and decided to chew a tablet right away. Almost instantly, I realized how bad my Dutch was: Apparently I’d missed the word for “effervescent.”
As I walked along a crowded pedestrian street, orange foam quickly began to fill my mouth, and it was accelerating.
I knew I had three choices, and I had to make a decision quickly:
1) I could swallow the tablet, causing my stomach to explode, and dying a hideous orange-flavored death.
2) I could keep the tablet in my mouth, and have foam come out of my nose (try explaining that one to the nice policeman).
3) Or I could spit it out, and hope that no one noticed.
I opted for #3, but the narrow street was filled with tons of people, all heading to dinner. Seconds were ticking away. Where could I get away with this, like NOW?
I walked to the nearest bush I could find, bent over, and spit out as much of the tablet as I could, followed by even more orange foam. And then some more foam.
Just when I thought I’d gotten away with it, I glanced up, and saw a mom and dad strolling with a little kid who was staring at me with wide eyes. I was mortified, and realizing how absurd I looked, I began to laugh.
So now I was foaming at the mouth AND laughing like Jack Nicholson.
Bubbles were landing on my shoes. The parents clutched their child for dear life, and I tried my best to blend into the crowd.
I eventually recovered and went on to live a normal happy life, but I sometimes wonder how that poor kid turned out.
Photo by Sharon Pittaway on Unsplash
SMUDGED POSTCARDS 