Another reason I enjoy going to the casino is that I usually have several stories to tell by the time I leave. Last Saturday was no different.
Farmer H always stops at the restroom on the way down that long promenade area. I use the regular one inside the casino before cashing out, but Farmer H always waits until the last minute. I stand outside and wait, watching the people go by.
On this day, there was an old man sitting on one of the leather-padded benches. Beside him was a boy of 5 or 6. I imagine the kid was sitting with his grandpa. That would be an odd combination if they came to the casino for gambling, but I assumed they were there for a wedding. The event center was open, and silver and gold Mylar balloons were entwined and decorating the pillars. Not that these two were dressed for a wedding, but standards are pretty lax these days.
Farmer H joined me again, and we started down the long hall toward the doors that led to the covered walkway that led to the parking lot. A lot of younger-than-normal people were coming in, headed toward the casino. It might have been because we were leaving later than usual. It was almost 5:00. We're used to being with the elderly. Our own kind. The afternoon gamblers, not the Saturday-night-out crowd.
One thing about those egregious Millennials...they're not gonna yield to ANYBODY! Not a foot, not an inch, not a micrometer would they yield. They have to be the generational champions of playing chicken. And here came a slew of them, striding up the wide carpeted promenade. They were walking at least four abreast. Taking up the entire cushy carpet, forcing Farmer H and I off onto the tile near the wall. Me, for sure. I think Farmer H had one foot on the cushy carpet, and one foot on the tile. He was trying not to be displaced, and had to lean-lunge towards me to avoid colliding with a Millennial shoulder. We were shunted closer to the Gramps & Young 'un duo.
I was directly in front of the Old Man and the Wee when that little dude SNEEZED. If he had been sneezing a dart, I would have been the bullseye! You've seen slow motion action of a sneeze, right? How billions of particles spray into the air? I felt them on my arm. I immediately stopped breathing. That's my teacher training, you know! Stop breathing until well past the snot cloud. My lungs were on fire, burning like those of a diver with an empty tank trying to surface.
I'd say I made it a good six steps past the scene of the slime before I had to inhale or faint dead away. What hurt worse than my lungs was the fact that I was UNABLE TO COMPLAIN while holding my breath!
"GASP! Did you SEE that? I swear, that kid sneezed when I got directly in front of him! Not even a hand over his mouth!"
It surely is the end of the world as we know it. Those younger generations are going to do themselves in, colliding with one another while walking in opposite directions, and blasting each other with viruses.