Air Conditioner or Weapon of Germ Warfare?

After a sunny and warm Sunday this week I went out for dinner to cap off a nice relaxing day. We're sitting in the restaurant eating garlic bread and I start to notice that I’m getting a little chilly. Now, it having been such a lovely day, all I’m wearing are jeans and a t-shirt. I quickly notice that they have sat us directly in the air conditioner’s line-of-fire. It’s just blowing right on us.

"Ah well," I think to myself. It’s been warm all day and it’s actually kind of nice not to be sweating for a change. The main course arrives and I’m now officially delving into the Uncomfortable Zone. I joke that I’m probably going to catch a cold.

Then, Monday morning, I wake up congested and feeling like crap. I was a touch feverish and spent the first several minutes of the morning either blowing my nose or coughing up some of the excess that had traveled down my throat over night. (Hey, this blog can’t always be pleasant, you have to expect this kind of thing every once in a while). A hot shower loosens things up enough to get me feeling a little better and then I’m off to work.

I hate being sick at work.

I try calling my doctor to see if I can get a prescription called in. I know what’s happened to me. I caught a cold and then an upper respiratory infection while I slept. Happens to me a couple of times a year. I recognize the symptoms. I can’t get through to the doctor’s office and wind up leaving a message with his service. Later that afternoon I finally get the call back and I ask for them to call in my prescription.

See, I have a game plan. They call in my prescription, I leave work a few hours early to head back to Jersey to pick it up, take my meds, take a little nap and then head back to the city for rehearsal. This will work.

An hour later I call the pharmacy to check if my prescription is ready. Oops, they hadn’t called it in yet. So it’s back to trying to get through to the doctor’s office. This time they finally pick up, apologize and tell me they’re going to call it in right away. I wait another half-hour and call the pharmacy. It won’t be ready for another hour or so. Great! Now it’s late in the afternoon and there’s no way I can get to Jersey, pick it up and be back in NYC in time for rehearsal. Looks like I’ll have to make it through the day without any medicine.

I put in a full day at work and although I feel worse than I did when I arrived, I’m thinking I’m in pretty good shape. Mel and I meet up a little early to walk through the Times Square Food Fest (or whatever the hell it was) and eat all sorts of foods that don’t go together. Pasta, barbequed ribs, chorizo, baklava, brick oven pizza and a glass of sangria. Then off to rehearsal.

I hate being sick at rehearsal.

So now it hits. In the little rehearsal black box (which felt comfortable when we first arrived) I start sweating like a mad-man and begin to lose my voice. I think we got some good work done, but not sure any of it was mine. An actress falls through a chair she was standing on ... that worked. We’ll never be able to recreate it, but it worked.

Finally home and quickly to bed. Wake up this morning feeling ten times worse. So I call out, burn a sick day and head out to get my prescriptions. Do a little work from home (see, even when I take a sick day I do work) and then go back to bed. "May cause drowsiness" was a serious understatement. I slept for six solid hours.

So, what’s the moral of the story? Air conditioning is great ... just stand to one side.

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