I don’t understand spitting. OK, probably not the most appealing way to start a post, but then again, neither is what prompted me to write this. For probably the umpteenth time, give or take a few times, I saw someone walking down the street who decided it was appropriate to spit on the sidewalk. I simply do not understand the thinking behind this.
What is so all fired wrong with your own spit that you can’t just swallow it? We’re not talking a mouth full of chewing tobacco here or anything – not that that’s exactly an appealing thought either. But why, if suddenly left with an overabundance of saliva, do some people feel the irresistible urge to share it with the world? Sure, it’s one of those little things in the grand scheme and all, but it still baffles me. Not to mention causing me to side-step around the splatters in my quest to avoid spreading unknown DNA around on my shoe.
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Maybe I’m missing something. Maybe there’s some secret thrill that comes from seeing wads of your own spittle fly through the air and land in the path of others. But I don’t get it. I can’t think of a good reason for this saliva projection activity unless you’ve perhaps just taken a bite or sip of something that tastes ghastly, are brushing your teeth, are at the dentist and have been told to rinse and spit, are at a wine tasting, or possibly, if you were in the movie Titanic.
