Heads Up, Son.

It's safe to say I'm a germaphobic - at least in the sense that I'm utterly terrified at the prospect of being sneezed on by a stranger. Not a few times have I found myself forcefully exhaling in an effort to avoid ingesting the airborne terror emitted from the nostrils and mouths of the unknown. Working in New York City, this is hardly a rare occurrence - my ducking for cover as the liquid based expulsions of the sick careen carelessly above my head. It's something you have to deal with. Like maintaining a minimum distance from suspect looking, shirtless individuals in the summertime. Don't get me wrong; I love taking my shirt off. But not in midtown Manhattan. Time and place, baby. Be appropriate.