So this morning I thought I would break two bad habits at once and a.) eat breakfast rather than skipping it, and b.) wear a heavy coat rather than my trusty Crazy Hope-cursed sweater coat (seeing as how it was snowy and freezing outside).

As my karmic reward, I almost passed out on the EL. Official CTA policy is apparently to reduce the number of trains running by 2% for every degree the temperature drops. This leads people to frantically pack themselves into the cars like herds of mad cows when a train finally pulls into a stop. I stood gamely shoulder to shoulder with the great bundled masses for two stops, then began to black out. TOO MANY PEOPLE. TOO TOASTY WARM.

And I am not a wuss! I have taken the EL under many conditions, including fending purse-snatchers away from my mother and hung-over drunk (thanks, Suki!). I'm sure my fellow riders found it a bit odd when I half-took my coat off and knelt to the floor, but surely that is preferable to being vomited and passed out upon.

I just hate fainting because people get so overexcited about it. Like the time I passed out in front of my friend's apartment at 2:00 a.m. while leaving her birthday party. mr. rampy called an ambulance, even though once I came to I assured him that I felt much better. Then the ambulance guys made it pretty clear that they thought I was a Drunky McCan'tHoldHerBeer, which was embarassing since that wasn't at all the case. As we found out the next morning when mr rampy dragged me to the emergency room to make sure it wasn't an aneurism or something. No, it was vaso vago syncope, which basically means you stood up too fast and all the blood rushed to your head.

As I've said before, I'm pretty hands off in general, so I find the alacrity with which complete strangers jump to manhandle you after you faint annoying, to say the least. For instance, one time I started feeling faint in one of my college classes that was held in this tiny basement room, perhaps 20 feet by 14, with like thirty other people crammed in there. Rather than pass out face down on my notebook, I thought I would nip outside for some fresh air.

I remember sort of stumbling up a wheelchair ramp to the main mall of the campus, and then it struck me that it would be a very good idea to sit down. From there, it was the slightest tilt of the body to full-out lying down. Which felt SO NICE. Those bricks were SO COOL AND SOOTHING.

Not that I was able to enjoy the moment, because the next thing I knew, two enterprising (probably pre-med) students were carrying me to a bench, throwing me onto my back on it, slapping me sharply about the face, and waving smelling salts under my nose. Yes, smelling salts. In freaking 1995. I attract the loonies. I really do.

And they wouldn't let me go back to class, even though I assured them that I was feeling much better after my little rest. They called campus security and brought me a hideous diet soda and tried to convince me I was anemic. Then campus security drove me home in the college security-mobile, so that I had to sneak back two hours later to retrieve my car. (mind you, I lived across the street...and drove to school...see, I am so freaking lazy.)

And yes, I did go to the doctor and it was just a little respiratory infection. I got some antibiotics. Everything was fine. I even remembered to go back for my books.

If eating breakfast and dressing appropriately for cold weather = increased chance of coming to with worried stockbrokers fanning me with the Wall Street Journal and pillowing my woozy head on their briefcases, I may have to rethink this whole 'getting healthy' thing.