Things were going pretty well until I bit into my hamburger.
Ow.
Something was really wrong.
“Are you okay?” asked my date.
My eyes started watering. I was so confused, but I nodded.
I bit down harder and suddenly the hamburger flew out of my hands. I’ve never been so bewildered in my life. Only when I held my hand up did the sorry truth stare us in the face.
Before you get too impressed, hear this: I did it all in self-defense.
Let me give you some quick background.
I have extreme Tourette’s Syndrome, as Sonia noticed recently. Tourette’s makes people move or vocalize involuntarily and occasionally results in unspeakable awesomeness. My motor tics range from eye blinking to punching myself in the face to even stranger things. My phonic tics range from clearing my throat to hooting and yowling and snarling and slobbering and screaming like the Tasmanian Devil.
I have a vivid memory of using the word “idiosyncrasy” in fifth grade during a group project. I didn’t know the definition, just the word. This enraged a boy named Chance to the point where he spit on me and encouraged everyone else to do so. We all fought on the floor until the teacher pulled us apart.
I don’t blame the little ruffian, even though his favorite game was putting a bucket on his head and charging the wall. It was my fault. I’m a librarian and have always been one at heart. My parents pushed learning, curiosity, and books and that was the boy they created.
