One thing I've never been clear on is the etiquette of handheld fruit
eating. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. Apples,
pears, peaches, nectarines, coconuts, etc. - we've all been there.
Eating handheld fruits in the company of others is on my top ten list of
the most awkward things that happen in life. And it just happened to
me.
I'm sitting in a staff meeting for my internship when my
stomach starts to growl. Like, really loudly. Never mind that I ate my
Wheaties and my apple-a-day and a fistful of Gummy Vites this morning...
I am bear-on-a-campground hungry. Seeing as how I am rarely without
snacks, I remember I have a nectarine in my bag. Perfect. I scan the
room carefully to see what other people are doing - one person is
picking her nails; another is cross-referencing the time on his watch
with the time on the clock, with the time on his laptop, to ensure that
it's really only been a mere FIVE MINUTES since he last checked the
time; another intern is staring at a hole in the wall like it's the most
interesting thing she's seen all day... it is a pretty weird looking
hole. So I start staring at it, too. Huh, look at that.
Back on
track. Having decided that eating a fruit shouldn't be a problem, I
quietly reach for my bag. However, I have never been a genteel (that
means gentle, right? I've always wanted to use that word) person. So, I
manage to knock my phone to the ground in the process. Rule #1 of public
fruit consumption: don't be a wildebeest in a butterfly garden.
Commotion aside, I manage to unzip my bag without issue. But oh wait -
being the regulation Einstein that I am, I decided to use several
plastic bags to create an impenetrable fortress around my lunch while
packing it this morning. Literally, bags on bags on bags separate me
from this fruit. Rule #2 of public fruit consumption: don't use the
process of packing a lunch to demonstrate you are qualified to work as a
NASA engineer; just put the lunch in a single bag and move on.
Despite
the fortress of bags, I decide I am hungry enough to take the next
steps in my journey toward gastronomical fulfillment. I start to open
plastic bag number one and it sounds like nails on a chalk board; or
like a Market Basket bag in a dead silent room of people who haven't
heard any sound other than their own thoughts for the last several
hours. Both sounds are equally disruptive. Everyone turns to look at
me... even the nail picker. So naturally, I act like I was momentarily
fascinated by a stain on my bag and will never touch it again. Rule #3
of public fruit consumption: RETREAT RETREAT.
After my decisive
retreat, I decide that I have just entered the final stage of the Hunger
Games and will therefore go all Donner Party on my fellow interns if I
don't eat immediately. Thus, I forge ahead and re-enter the plastic bag.
After what feels like hours of rummaging, my fingers touch down on the
nectarine, and I manage to pull it out of its cocoon. AH, SWEET JESUS
FINALLY. Rule #4 of public fruit consumption: once you begin a journey,
don't back down. It will all be worth it in the end.
BUT WAIT!
That is not the end of this melodrama. Next comes the actual eating of
the fruit. The minute you take out anything edible in front of people,
they will inevitably look at you like they want to murder you with your
own food and then throw your dead, food-covered corpse out the nearest
window. This is awkward. I take a bite of my delicious fruit only to get
more glares. BUT I DON'T CARE! Mwahahaha. Rule #5 of public fruit
consumption: randomly develop a signature evil laugh so as to intimidate
those around you and get them off your back. Crazy eyes are a nice
touch.
To use my favorite word again, I am in no way genteel when
it comes to the physical act of eating. Despite attempting to take tiny
bites and barely chew, me eating a fruit sounds like a sumo wrestler on a
water slide. Or at least what I imagine that would sound like. I slurp
and gurgle and crunch. But I can't help it! I am genetically programmed
to eat like something out of Where the Wild Things Are - a trait I get
from my grandfather (sorry Papa). If I wasn't already enough of a pain
in the ass for these poor people, now they have to deal with me adding
my own sound effects to this meeting. Someone had to do it. Rule #6 of
public fruit consumption: let your genetic quirks shine.
Then
there's the issue of the pit. Apparently, no one in my office generates
trash because there are ZERO trash receptacles within a fifteen-foot
radius. I am forced to wrap the spit-covered symbol of my shame in an
old piece of paper I found. I then sheepishly reacquaint myself with the
fortress of plastic bags, which unleashes yet another round of sound
effects. Rule # 7 of public fruit consumption: swallow the pit. Just do
it.
When all is said and done, I've successfully filled five (yes,
only five) minutes of an otherwise dry meeting with my fruit drama,
appeased my empty stomach, and made about ten enemies. All for a single
nectarine. This is my life, these are my choices.
My boss calls a lunch break literally two minutes after my fruit ordeal. I'm not even hungry.
