to the man who nearly vomited orange soda on me around mile 2 of my run today:

thank you, sir, for not actually vomiting on me. i know it was close. you were coming out of that sketchy pizza joint that i think is a front and appeared to be mid-meal, with your food in one hand, and an orange faygo in the other hand. i was on about mile 2 of an unplanned 7 miler. as i ran down lawrence avenue, i thought about all the fantastic places i’ve discovered on that street: harvestime food (best. grocery store. ever.), hella’s greek pastries (honey cookes that will change your world, like michael w smith did, and a super awesome greek dude who always says “nothing but the best for the best, and you are the best!”), nhu lan (most agree one of the top 2 places in the city to get banh mi) and the newest addition, paprika (delicious indian south of devon)

as i ran, i thought about how much i like my neighborhood. except for the sketchy pizza joint next to the laundromat. and then you walked out. quickly. clearly you were on a mission. a mission to nearly run into me and then barf orange soda all over the sidewalk with such alarming force that i thought it might have splattered on my shoes. but lo, our paths didn’t cross at that pivotal moment. had i run those first two miles mere seconds faster i’d have been wearing your orange faygo, but fate was on my side today, dear sir.

also, i’m sorry for the horrific look i gave you. i’m kind of bad at hiding facial expressions. you caught me off guard, as i’m not a puker and this is as close to another puking human as i’ve ever been. at first i thought you were just spitting orange soda out (i wouldn’t blame you) but then i realized (because of the sheer volume) you were actually ralphing on the sidewalk at 6pm.

and finally, thank you for affirming my gut instinct to never go to that sketchy pizza joint.