Daily News television blogger David Kronke had a bad run-in with some nuts (he's allergic) at this weekend's pre-Emmy tea thrown by BAFTA and the BBC. Kronke refers to himself as the Mayor of Television:
When one is cursed with such an allergy, one learns how to detect a bad reaction pretty quickly. And so, I, upon munching upon a mere few bites of the “treat,” realized that forces greater than myself were attempting to lay me low. At that point – and there is no polite way of putting this – one’s only alternative is to purge the offending foodstuff, as violently as possible, from one’s system.
(A brief diversion: Fatal nut allergies aren’t exactly secrets in the 21st century. F@ckloads of people suffer from them. So why does anyone plant these things in food without informing servers that people could actually die if they nibble upon such trivial snacks? Your Mayor’s companion, while he was off endeavoring to induce himself to – there is no polite word for this – vomit, asked the server if the appetizer included nuts; the server said she didn’t know. No matter: I knew.)
Extricating such poisons from one’s system is a tricky game. When a potentially fatal allergy enters your system, mucous fills whatever tube you might be able to breathe through. It’s very clever that way.
And let it be noted that Your Mayor, like about 85% of the country, is in thrall to an abysmally p!ss-poor insurance provider (a Blue Cross PPO that routinely rejects the service providers requested by their clients in favor of some no-name half-@ssed group, if you must know). Hence, under such circumstances, the honorable thing to do is to die outright, because the only alternative is to die whilst sitting in an abjectly managed emergency room and having one’s estate billed $75K for the privilege.
Spoiler alert: he survived.