A harrowing tale of seasonal allergies
With March 20 officially marking the first day of spring, many students are turning to the outdoors to relieve their stress and soak up some dearly missed vitamin D. Walking outside, it’s clear to see why some claim spring as their favourite season. Trails and walkways are lined with daffodils or tulips of various colours, and the bees have already been assigned their jobs to collect pollen. Seasonal depression is chased away by the bright blue sky and sunny (albeit windy in Victoria) days. April showers are a joy and relief from the hail and snow of winter, and the fresh smell of nature lingers in the air. The often gloomy coastal outlooks of the island are given new, invigorating life that begs one to abandon any idea of a lecture hall and escape to the beach.
That being said, while all seasons have their issues, none have majorly inconvenienced me more than spring. As I’m sure is relatable to many, I suffer from seasonal allergies.
The second I step outside it is as if I am suddenly in a war zone. Dodging a meteor shower of pollen with every stride in the trenches, it’s vital to rush towards the nearest building for shelter, even better a pharmacy to load up on the ammo that is allergy pills. I don my N95 mask as combat armour, the allergy pills as a magic potion, and enter battle.
Entering a lecture is when the true struggle begins. Whether it’s a room of 30 or 300, the unspoken social law is to never cough, sneeze, or sniffle. Experiencing what seems to be the black plague, I sit in my unassigned, assigned seat in the middle of an aisle, and begin to pray to whatever gods are out there that I will be able to make it through the 50 minutes of class time. Alas, my prayers aren’t answered, and during minute 23 I feel the oncoming effects of what will be my downfall.
Red, irritated eyes are the least of my problems as the beginnings of a sneeze commence. My nails leave imprints on the palms of my hands as I hold my breath until I fear I’ll turn blue. I can already see how once I sneeze, the entirety of the lecture hall will be staring straight at me. I could attempt a quick escape into the hallway, but where I’m sitting has doomed me to stay trapped in the jail cell that was previously my seat. Tears flow to my eyes as I am faced with humanity’s greatest question: to sneeze or to die?
However, it’s too late as my fate has been chosen, and a sound not unlike a lion’s roar emits from my nose. There’s nothing more to do than sit extremely still and hope that human vision no longer has the ability to see me in my paralyzed state.
Leaving the lecture hall I’m first out the door, risking the hailstorm of pollen raining down once again. Even without protection, it’s worth it for a quick escape.