In Honor Of The Guy Who Spit In My Vicinity Over The Weekend: HABAYHN Presents The Definitive List Of Places You Are, And More Importantly Are Not, Allowed To Spit:
We talked a little bit about this on an unnamed podcast that we redacted this week. Basically I was taking the weekend train back into Brooklyn, feeling pretty sunsick from a rugby game, and really sick from a terrible cough/cold that’s been plaguing my existence for the past week. I let out a couple very minor ‘coughs’ as to not break my “no absurd bodily functions on the subway” rule.
Meanwhile, a very large man in a throwback jersey and a beret across from me starts hacking up a lung. Now at first I didn’t really know what to make of this. Was he actually sick? Was his cough worse than mine? Did we have the same thing? Were we brothers? Or most importantly, was he mocking me? I was unsure, and feeling as unwell as I was/ being on a New York City subway, I decided to "do as the Romans do," and kept my mouth shut and my eyes to the ground.
This is where things get a little hairy, and by hairy I mean my world view has been irreparably shaken. The train stops, the doors open, and throwback jersey beret man stands up to get off the train. Please note, the doors are wide open, the train is stopped, and throwback jersey beret man is still in the subway car. The big fella initiates the most disgusting coughing fit I’ve ever seen in my 26 years of misery, and hocks the world’s most giant loogie onto the floor of the car, not 12 inches from my feet.
Let me make that absolutely clear for you, the doors were open, this man had the option of leaving the train before he spit, and instead he expelled god knows what onto the floor of the train. I was feeling the weakest I’ve ever been, but even that wasn’t going to stop me from confronting big beret man and getting myself killed over a stranger’s spit. Fortunately he exited the train immediately after leaving a notable quantity of his lung on the floor, and I lived to write this blog. I don’t know what kind of psycho does something like this, but it has become clear to me that world doesn’t have, and is in drastic need of, an “Official Starter’s Guide On Where, And More Importantly Where Not, To Spit,” written by yours truly.
Where You Can Spit- An Official Starter’s Guide
The Subway Station
Look we can’t be picky here. The subway car is sacred ground and that’s partially because the subway station is dirtier than a germaphobe’s seventh circle of hell. Anything goes out here. You’ve got homeless people jerking it, you’ve got people pushing other people in front of trains, you’ve got normal people jerking it, and you’ve got thousands of people trying to cram themselves into delayed cages like cattle. It doesn’t hurt to spit because you’re not making anything dirtier here. I believe that at some point you hit what’s known in scientific circles as a “dirty rockbottom” where you’ve reached the peak (or pit) of all nastiness. Example A-F of peak nastiness would be puddles in the subway tracks, we’ve covered that - they’re disgusting. Therefore, you can spit all you want down there! As long as you don’t spit on anybody you’re okay, although considering the low bar set for subway platform behavior even then it’s probably fine. That’s a classic “hard to be mad at the shoplifter when you’re investigating a triple homicide” argument.
Outdoor Athletic Activities
You can’t be spitting in any indoor exercise space, but it’s allowed, and even encourage in outdoor spaces! Look, as a stellar intramural athlete, I know better than most that there’s no better way to show that you’re working hard than to spit. You can take that to the bank and cash it. You show show me a guy who’s sweating like he has a fever, breathing like a stuck pig and spitting like a fat cobra, I’lll show you a guy who’s putting the team on his back. You can do anything on an outdoor athletic field while athletics are going on. It really comes down to once you’re sweating on people in a non-weird way (sweating on someone on the the subway counts as a weird way,) bodily fluids have a different significance. Last night running sprints with the ol’ rugby squad, I hocked a loogie, launched a snot rocket, and pooped myself a little bit - nobody was the wiser!
When It’s Raining Out
This is a good one because when it comes down to it nobody knows if you’re spitting up your germs or just getting acidic rainwater out of your mouth. The catch with this one is it actually has to be raining, you have to be outside, and you can’t have an umbrella. If you’re a coward, you can pull “the novocain”: this is where you don’t even have to spit, you can just let it dribble down your chin and nobody will notice. Rain is nature’s version of power washing, so why shouldn’t you be able to get a little dirty? It should be noted that if anybody sees you spit in the rain, they’re allowed to call you an animal and make endless jokes at your expense to their friends who you’ll definitely never meet now, because who would introduce a spitting person to their friends?
When One Your Best Boiz Kisses You And You’re Doing A Bit
This is a big one. Not much explanation is needed here. You’ve got to sell the bit, therefore you’re allowed to spit. This is even funnier if you do it with your significant other.
In the Woods.
If you can poop there, you can spit there. Not vice-versa.
When You Are Alone.
You are never alone.
Places Where You Are Not Allowed To Spit - An Official Starter's Guide
Literally every other place in the world.
If it wasn’t listed above, you can’t spit there. Not asking a lot here. I’ve given you your safe spit spaces. We’re already covered in poop particles, we don’t need your mouth germs too.
