The Curse of Booger

 

We spent our last Sabbath away with some relatives. As usual, on Friday night, I went to synagogue. Sitting in front of me was a man who, the whole time I was there, was picking his nose (he will now on be referred to as Booger). Now don’t get me wrong – I have seen alot of nose picking in my day. For instance, every day I drive to and from work, I see plenty of drivers who, for some reason, think that the windows of their car are one-way mirrors. Even after I stare straight at them while they are up to their wrists, they will stare straight at me, without removing their fingers, as if to say “I can see you but you can’t see me!” Well, I CAN see you, and I am NOT impressed!

But I digress. This post is mainly about a particular nose picker whom I came into contact with. Well, actually, I avoided contact at all costs, but I will get to that later.

 

So there I am in synagogue, trying to have the appropriate level of concentration for a meaningful prayer experience, yet I see Booger constantly picking his nose. Not only that, but he was making no effort at all to hide his actions. I mean, c’mon..at least he could have made it look like he was scratching the outside of his nose. But no. Booger was having too much fun to allow social etiquette get in the way of a good pick.

 

But it gets worse. Booger was going for gold, even as his children were speaking with him. And even while he himself was praying. Talk about disrespectful. Furthermore, Booger had obviously developed somewhat of a method of picking, whereby he would pick, stare, roll, transfer between fingers, and then rub his fingers together until the substance became like dust. He would then rub his finger on the back of the seat in front of him!

 

Ok, you will all admit this is disgusting, but at least noone was hurt. Well, don’t be too sure. You see, there was another man in synagogue, who went around and offered some of the men snuff, which he kept in a small, silver box. He would come around and, if you were one of the “lucky” designated snuffees, would tap the cover of the box a few times to let you know that you had been chosen. Most of the snuffees took him up on his offer. The idea of putting my finger in a small box of powder and then sniffing it, after countless people before me, is not very appealing. That small, silver box must be a germ paradise. This was definitely the case after Booger received the tap.

 

I assumed that Booger would respectfully decline the snuff, given the other use he had for his finger that night. But to my absolute horror, Booger stuck his finger – the very same one that had been engaged in such horrific acts of nasal abuse a few moments earlier – and took some snuff. He then placed his finger back in a familiar place – his nose – and took a deep breath. (Only this time, the finger insertion was almost socially acceptable, given the fact that it had snuff on it).

 

I was not offered any snuff, probably because I deliberately turned my head in the opposite direction and pretended to gather up my belongings. But I did see many other men join the ranks of snuffee. I wonder which percentage of them spent the rest of their weekends with the flu, or some other ailment.

 

It is customary for you to shake hands with fellow congregants after the prayer service, or at least those congregants sitting directly in front of you and behind you. It would be extremely rude to refuse to shake someone’s hands, even if you had legitimate reasons (like trying to avoid contamination). Knowing that I could not possibly offer my hand to Booger, I started to make my way out of the synagogue a few minutes early. And I did not turn back.

 

* Yes, it is a slow news day so far.