Tom Meitner

Writing prompt: “Write one full page - at a minimum - about snot.”

Snot falls into a general category that I steer clear of, which is gross humor. Your farting, your snot, your belching - all of this stuff is involved in simple human functions that we’ve turned into humor for some reason. But I have to write about this, and the point is to steer clear of subtleties. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I’m amazed at how many different forms snot can take. Just think about it: what other thing can you think of that has such a varied consistency, shape, and color? It could be bright green, yellow, clear, or red. It could be black, if you were breathing in some soot or something. It can run out of your nose like water, or it can be hard as a rock, embedded into your nose hairs until you have to yank it out with your eyes watering. If you pick your nose, it might be a little red. It can be incredibly sticky and hang around in the back of your nose, taunting you and laughing at you.

It has such a dramatic effect on your body, too. If you have a nose full of snot and you can’t breathe, you become lethargic and a giant blob of laziness. Sometimes laying down will force your snot to plug up your nose, and you won’t be able to sleep. Or you could be sitting in church and hear the familiar “nose whistle” and you rub your nose to try and rearrange the snot to something that won’t be so musical.

I use a neti pot every night. For those who don’t know, a neti pot is where you pour warm salt water into one nostril and it drains out the other nostril. It flushes allergens and crap out of your sinuses. I love using the thing, but I’m always disappointed because I only see the water come out. I’d love to be able to see pieces of snot getting washed out so I could trash talk to it. Is that weird?

And don’t get me started on blowing your nose. I wouldn’t even blow my nose when I was a kid because I hated it - I still kinda do. It drives me batty when the snot is so plugged that, when you try to blow your nose, air shoots out your ears. Are you kidding me? How tight of a seal could there possibly be?

I go back and forth on handkerchiefs, too. On one hand, they are classy, and if used correctly, can be very useful without being disgusting. But then I feel like Jerry Seinfeld saying, “I have a snotrag.” I saw on Mythbusters once they tested which method of containing your sneezes was the best, and the elbow beat the handkerchief handily. So maybe we don’t need handkerchiefs - we just need to not touch the insides of other people’s elbows, which I figure rarely happens anyway. Ah, the things my mind dreams up.

So there you go. Five hundred words on snot. I apologize.