Spitting Image

This year, I've thought a lot about spitting. In my "about me" for this blog, I say something about "learning to spit like a Spaniard." Unfortunately, alliteration took precedence over reality in that instance. In truth I find the custom disgusting. In the United States I can forgive when a runner spits into the grass as they're passing by. I can understand when a tween spits in front of his friends to look cool. I don't find either situation particularly pleasant, but not horrible either.

Here's how it plays out in Spain: I'm walking to school. I near an old man. He's got a tickle in his throat, starts coughing vehemently. "What to do with this phlegmy gunk, now loosened?" he thinks. "Well, why not expectorate in the direction of that nice young woman coming closer? Better out than in, after all." He spits, nearly missing my shoes, wipes his chin, and smiles at me. "Buenos dias, guapa!" And a good day to you too, sir.