Thursday

I never understood the handkerchief.

I'm not adverse to getting dirty or anything, but carrying around snot in my pocket all day isn't something I intend to do. Not only that, but it is used over and over again. At any given point in time, a handkerchief may be the most disgusting piece of cloth for miles around it, underwear included.

When I was much younger, I remember my father used to use a handkerchief when we'd go to church. If I had a stuffy nose and was disturbing other people around me, he'd unfurl the horrible thing--which my own eyes had watched him use multiple times that morning already--and force my face into that slimy sheet so I could add to the mess. When I'd recoil from it, I felt as if I was worse off than before, with mucus on the outside of my face as well as in. When I'd try to use my sleeve to fix the situation, he'd knock my hand down, forcing me to wear it as some sort of twisted point of pride. When we'd stand for a hymn, I'd quickly brush it all off while he towered over me, concentrating on the song and surveying the religious landscape. Perhaps he was looking for other noses to clear.

There's a man driving a brand new Audi next to me right now who has whipped out his custom monogrammed snot blanket, worthy of only the finest gold-threaded Old English lettering. He's proudly blowing and picking and wiping at his face, trying to get it all clean and presentable. Most likely off to some important meeting it seems and needs to look his best. His hand is nonchalantly tucking it back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket now. For his colleague or client's sake, I only hope his buisness cards are kept somewhere else.

What bothers me the most, I suppose, is the fact that his car costs more than I make in a year. It's got an advanced, computer-controlled, self-adjusting suspension that can read road changes in milliseconds. The car came standard with a sound system that has more speakers than my home theater amplifier has places to plug speakers in--and I have a very nice amp--and every second, every instant of his lovely and comfortable drive, is charted by a system that constantly monitors his position by decoding digital signals beaming down from outer space...

...and he carries his snot around in his pocket.

With all the advancement, all of that vivid technological evolution that surrounds him, he hasn't come to grips with the fact that tissues have advanced as well. Wonderful, lotion-infused tissues that give the experience of blowing your nose into a clean, puffy cloud instead of a sticky stale patch of pocket swamp.

Try as he may, he does not exude that refined, cultured attitude that his Audi and expensive suit are supposed to. That supple, climate-controlled cabin could be filled with the newest symphony that is caressing his ear drums from twelve different finely-tuned and precision-aimed titanium-dipped tweeter dome speakers and I will still feel more advanced as I blow my nose into a Dunkin Donuts napkin while listening to Howard Stern, knowing full well that the napkin will never touch me or anything I own ever again.