I was watching a friend teach a class recently. Poor thing had a cough, so much so that I walked up during a prolonged hacking fit and gave her a cough drop I’ve had in my purse since last winter. Then I returned to my seat in the back of the room among random women who had already announced they were giggly with exhaustion.
A few minutes later the giggling was directed at me. I turned my head and the woman to my left snickered, “Your face!”
I already knew what my face was saying, it was saying, “Oh God, my friend is teaching this class drunk off her tits on cough medicine.” There was just a reeling kind of cadence to her voice. “Not too noticeable,” I told myself.
“You looked so worried!” my classmate said. “And then you thought no one could tell. And then there was just the touch of a slur and you looked horrified.”
I primly folded my hands on top of my purse and admitted that perhaps our instructor had overindulged on the cough syrup a bit.