The Dangers of Mouthbreathing

I get up every morning at the ungodly hour of 4:45 AM. The first thing I do as part of my routine is to turn on the television to listen to the news and traffic. It helps me wake up and predict whether or not my day is going to generally suck for reasons not under my control. I listen with half an ear to the "traffic and weather on the 8's" at least 4 times during my morning routine. You would think, after all that, and the repeated warnings of the temperature being in the f-ing 30s, I would dress appropriately. But no. Not me. I know better. I still live in the days of early autumn when all you need is a light jacket.

When I settled into the snake-like slug line this morning that had coiled itself all the way around the bus shelter, the realization that it's not going to be a mild winter struck me. I was wearing my stylish leather jacket that is only capable of containing temperatures well above freezing and a very thin shirt underneath. I stood there just a little cold at first, and then the heat reserve built up from my car quickly wore off. I was painfully aware that I chose peep-toe flats to wear to work today, and every exposed part of my body was starting to shiver.

I've been sick for the last week, and while I'm getting better, I still can't breathe through all this congestion. My nose is pretty much clogged all the time, but standing out in the cold made it even worse today. So I graciously accepted my ride resigned to the fact that I'm temporarily a mouth-breather.

The guy who picked me up was such a character that I don't even think I can do him justice by describing him. His energy was bountiful, and his enthusiasm was entirely inappropriate for the hour or the audience.

Shortly after merging onto the interstate, he startled me from my slow tumble into commuter slumber by yelling "WOW! DID YOU SEE THAT!!!??" My eyes flew open expecting to see an 18-wheeler riding tandem on a Mini Cooper, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. He followed up by saying "it was a shooting star! Right there, going across the interstate." I halfway wanted to laugh, but the other part of me, the more jaded and aggressive part of me, wanted to tell him to reserve his enthusiasm for flying body parts or mangled metal. I was not in the mood to hear about missing a shooting star.

Then the really funny part kicked in. He was listening to country music, and Garth Brooks' "Friends in Low Places" came on (probably for the 80 billionth time on that radio station). He sat straight up with his coffee in his hand and started singing! SINGING at 6:20 AM on I95. It was like being in another dimension where people are happy and sing songs with strangers before the sun comes up. He looked around at me and the other poor bastard riding with us as if to say "aren't you going to join me for the chorus?" This particular song is reserved for very specific situations in my life, and this was not one of those situations. A very drunk Irishman serenaded me with this song (and a few Irish patriot songs), and I'll never be able to listen to it with the same perspective. So no, I didn't sing along. But it actually put a shadow of a smile on my face.

Things quieted down after Garth shut up, and we drove forward into the bowels of 7th ring of Hell (AKA Washington DC). I sat there miserably trying to close my mouth and breathe through my nose, but my body was not cooperating. I was trying to sleep, but the breathing issue prevented it from coming. Then I started to reason to myself that I didn't need to breathe through my nose. That mouth-breathing is a perfectly acceptable way to intake oxygen, and I shouldn't be hung up on it. I willed myself to sleep through the mouth-breathing, but still it wouldn't come. I finally accepted that I wasn't going to get a nap in, so I just relaxed my head and tried to focus on something else.

Mr. Happy broke my Zen moment with a "oh, oops!" Since my eyes were closed, I figured he probably cut somebody off who had a much less friendly reaction, and I didn't bother to look for confirmation. But that wasn't it. Mr. Manners was warning me about something that my body was presently incapable of detecting. Without all of my sensory faculties in line, I had no way of knowing what was happening to me. There was no olfactory detector in service to give me the heads up. And there, in my congested misery, I mouth-breathed Mr. Happy's fart.

A Latin Lesson

Yes, it's been a while. I've been vacationing around the world and just generally avoiding the commuter grind, but I'm back despite my resistance. I've actually got quite a few stories under my belt from the past few weeks, but I won't go back in time just yet. Today we move forward with a bit of a Latin lesson.

In college, I nerded out and took Latin (and I enjoyed it, so joke all you wish). Anyway, for some odd reason, there was one word that stuck out in my mind because it's also the name of a car. For me, whenever I see that car, I don't see the name, I see the translation.

In Latin, the word "audire" means "to hear." To skip ahead a few lessons, the imperative of "audire" is "audi." So, whenever I see an Audi, I read "HEAR!" OK, a more accurate modern usage would be "LISTEN!" but I always thought it was funnier to say "HEAR!"

So this shiny new "HEAR!" drove up to the line with Peroxide Barbie driving. Without getting started on that, I just have to comment on the car itself. OMG, who designed that piece of garbage car? I mean REALLY! I've been in Datsun's that were more comfortable. (My first car was a Datsun B210 that had a 2X4 holding the seat upright) I was in the backseat, and I have to say, the car itself made me miserable. Whoever designed this particular car hated people riding in the backseat.

I'm short, but when I sat in the seat, the headrest was jabbing me in that part in between your shoulder blades...you know...just below your neck. JABBING me. It was sticking WAY out and jabbing me in the back. I tried to discreetly move it up so that the "headrest" is actually where my head can rest on it, but it didn't budge! It was MISERABLE. I tried slouching down into the seat, but all that did was push my head so far forward that I was practically nosing my chest. Good lord! Cruel, cruel car designers got one over on the average family of 4 in that deal!

But, that's not the point today boys and girls. Today, we must learn the true meaning of the Latin word "audi!"

It's super early this morning when I catch a ride with the Over-processed Barbie, and she was in a bit of a hurry. As I am fumbling with the headrest, I feel her dig her Payless stilettos into the gas pedal and she started to merge onto 95. BUT WAIT, there were cars there! As she violently swerved back into the merge lane and shoved my neck into the torture device in her backseat, she softly mutters to herself "whoa." I'm thinking to myself....that's a mild understatement, but it's a respectable one. A few miles up the road, I start to settle in with my head cocked to the side to avoid the piercing pain of the jabbing headrest. But comfort is not her goal this morning. Oh no. Today, she wants to test the gods of transportation to see if they favor fake blondes. She decided that she wanted an 18-wheeler's lane more than he did, and she just got in it! He, of course, lays on the horn, and her response...."whoa."

Yeah, whoa indeed.

AT this point, my head hurts from the headrest, and the pungent, putrid smell of her jasmine air freshener was breaking through my really thick head cold and choking me to death. Her erratic driving was just making me grumpy. I started to play in my head all the Latin phrases I could remember from college, and I came up with a few. I only wish I had my Latin insult phrase book with me!

I'll share some of them with you, so if you ever find yourself in a scary commuter situation, you too can die like a nerd.

"Quid fit" = what's happening?
"Totus anctus" = in a world of hurt
"Nihil declaro" = I have nothing to declare
"Observa quo vadis, cinaede!" = watch where you're going, jerk!
"Primum non nocere" = first do no harm
and finally, my all time favorite

"qui parvum cerebrum habet stultus est" It's my favorite line from my first year Latin textbook. It's always stuck with me because I actually laughed when I translated it for the first time.

It means "he who has a small brain is stupid." Totally random right?

Anyway, I'm pretty sure that after all these years, and all this Latin I had it all wrong. "Audi!" doesn't mean "HEAR!" It actually means "OH MY GOD RUN FOR YOUR LIFE THIS IS THE WORST CAR EVER!!!!"

Next time little Miss Audi drives up, I think I'm going to shout "Die dulci fruere" and wait for the next ride.

LOOK IT UP! I'm sure you looked all the others up too!

That concludes today's Latin lesson.