On Monday afternoon, as I sat watching two of my kids play basketball, I got thrown up on.
The kid behind me started coughing. About the time his mother said, "Are you okay?" I turned around to see his mouth overflowing.
I moved fast.
I grabbed my daughter off my lap.
I jumped up.
I pushed our coats that were stowed under the bleachers to the side.
Not that much got on me and only a few drops on our jackets.
This all happened in a matter of moments.
The mom was frantic.
Jamie, get something! Jamie, get something for your brother. Jamie!
Jamie (I really don't remember her name) was stunned, maybe embarrassed, and not moving.
I bolted out of the gym. I ran to the bathroom, grabbed two large handfuls of paper towels, and returned to the bleachers.
My children sat unmoved, as did most of the other spectators, as I began to help clean up the mess.
Not long after, the mom took her son to the bathroom, mentioning before she left that she would tell the Athletics director that things needed to be cleaned.
I resumed watching the game. Naturally, no one was sitting in the area of the mishap.
When the game ended I brought the after-game snacks to middle court. The normal, post-game chaos ensued.
It wasn't until I was herding my 4 kids out of the gym (sort of like herding cats), that I realized that not only had the next game started, but the spectators were all enjoying germ ridden spots on the bleachers.
I still feel nauseous when I think about it.