Bugged
I was riding my scooter to work this morning when I felt something tiny pit against my cheek. It happens all the time when you ride a scooter: sand, leaf fragments, flecks of grit, and the occasional insect. This time, however, the wind shoved this speck up under my sunglasses and into my eye.
It didn’t hurt, but as you know it’s very annoying to have something in your eye. I had to ride the rest of the way blinking furiously, like someone trying to recite a Shakespeare soliloquy in morse code with their eyelids. To make matters even worse, just as I was nearing work something flew into my other eye. I could have wept with frustration, although ironically that would have solved the situation nicely.
The second speck fell out of my eye of its own accord by the time I reached work, but the original contaminant was still irritating me. I went up to my office, dropped off my briefcase, said a quick hello to the secretaries, then went into the bathroom to wash my eye out. Shortly thereafter, my cry of “GAAAAAH!” rang throughout the building and possibly the suburb.
I HAD A BUG IN MY EYE!
Not a big bug, I admit. It’s not like there was a monster cockroach clinging to my eyeball like a facehugger on a fresh John Hurt. It was only the size of a small ant. Still… A BUG! IN MY EYE!
It was dead, fortunately, and it didn’t really hurt, but it was stuck on my eyeball. Like any self-respecting man, I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and used it to scare the girls in the office.
Me: Hey, you want to see something gross?
Girls in the office: Er… okay.
Me: Check THIS out!
Girls in the office: What is… AIEEEEEEEEE!!!
Totally worth it.
A short while later, with a little help from the saline eyewash in the first aid kit, the bug was persuaded to migrate over to the tearduct, where I could dab him out with my fingertip.
The whole experience has taught me one thing. Namely, you know that your priorities are out of whack when you’re looking in the mirror at the bug that’s glued itself to your eyeball, and your primary thought is, “Man, I wish I had my camera so I could blog this properly.”
It didn’t hurt, but as you know it’s very annoying to have something in your eye. I had to ride the rest of the way blinking furiously, like someone trying to recite a Shakespeare soliloquy in morse code with their eyelids. To make matters even worse, just as I was nearing work something flew into my other eye. I could have wept with frustration, although ironically that would have solved the situation nicely.
The second speck fell out of my eye of its own accord by the time I reached work, but the original contaminant was still irritating me. I went up to my office, dropped off my briefcase, said a quick hello to the secretaries, then went into the bathroom to wash my eye out. Shortly thereafter, my cry of “GAAAAAH!” rang throughout the building and possibly the suburb.
I HAD A BUG IN MY EYE!
Not a big bug, I admit. It’s not like there was a monster cockroach clinging to my eyeball like a facehugger on a fresh John Hurt. It was only the size of a small ant. Still… A BUG! IN MY EYE!
It was dead, fortunately, and it didn’t really hurt, but it was stuck on my eyeball. Like any self-respecting man, I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and used it to scare the girls in the office.
Me: Hey, you want to see something gross?
Girls in the office: Er… okay.
Me: Check THIS out!
Girls in the office: What is… AIEEEEEEEEE!!!
Totally worth it.
A short while later, with a little help from the saline eyewash in the first aid kit, the bug was persuaded to migrate over to the tearduct, where I could dab him out with my fingertip.
The whole experience has taught me one thing. Namely, you know that your priorities are out of whack when you’re looking in the mirror at the bug that’s glued itself to your eyeball, and your primary thought is, “Man, I wish I had my camera so I could blog this properly.”
posted by Blandwagon at 11:12 PM
5 Comments:
Are you considering a closed-face helmet yet? ;)
Or goggles. Very natty on a moped.
I can't get a full face helmet - what about my mod cred?
Goggles I could live with, although given that I've been riding that scooter for four years and this is the first bug I've oculated, they may be an unnecessary expense.
An unnecessary expense, perhaps. But team them with a tartan scarf and driving gloves, and you'd make quite the impression with the ladies on Hay Street, I don't doubt.
Yes, they would say, "Hey, when did Rupert Bear get a scooter?"
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