Sound of Fury

“One bowl of rice noodle, please.”

That's all it took for my whole body to enter military mode.  As soon as the gentleman in the next table ordered those cursed long pieces of cooked flour, I knew I couldn't stay.  The thought of someone slurping those things launched General Brain into action.  Red alert!  Corporal Mouth, finish the drink and ask the waiter for the check!  Sergeant Hand, prepare the money!  Make sure the payment is exact so we don't have to wait for the change.  Lieutenant Feet, get ready to get us out of here!

Misophonia.  That's what my condition is called.  It causes certain sounds like slurping and chewing to become the scream of a banshee inside my head.  I had planned to spend the afternoon reading my new book in a small cafe but it wasn't going to happen.  It was a small cafe, only slightly bigger than a squash court.  The six tables surrounded the bar area in an L-shaped formation.  Moving to a different table was not an option.  The slurping sound would have been audible anywhere in the room and the gentleman would have thought of me as rude.  I looked at my drink.  Fortunately, I had ordered a cold one.  The red, rosy strawberry smoothie that was meant to be my reading companion had to be gulped as quickly as possible.  It was still three quarters full, as it had only been sitting pretty on my table for five minutes.  “Check, please!”  I asked the waiter.  I turned to my smoothie.  My mouth turned into a powerful vacuum cleaner, sucking the red fluid with all its might.  Immediately a winter storm came into my head, giving goosebumps to brave General Brain.  Brr!  Good job, Corporal Mouth.  Keep at it!  Captain Eyes, be on the lookout for that bowl of rice noodle.  Right after I finished my drink, I saw the waiter coming out of the kitchen carrying a bowl.  That had to be the rice noodles.  The race is on!  Come on cashier!  Where's my check?  Right on cue, the cashier walked towards my table with the check but it looked like the race was lost.  The glassy, long and transparent devil's hair had been delivered and the gentleman was ready to send me to the torture chamber with his chopsticks.

As he took his first slurp, all hell broke loose inside my head.  Every nerve were assaulted by the sound-waves emanating from the next table.  The usually tough General Brain suddenly became weak, kneeling and begging for the sound waves to stop the assault.  Now, Lieutenant Feet!  Time to go!  No time was wasted in executing the order, as Lieutenant Feet were always reliable in this situation.  Always.  I put my money on the check tray and ran out of the cafe to the safety of my car.  I breathed heavily, hoping the other person didn't realize that I ran out because of him.  I never intended to cause offense for it is an involuntary reaction on my part.  It is a fight or flight response every time.  And I choose flight every time.