The arrival of November brings the dreaded cold and flu season. Now, it’s nearly impossible to sit down for forty minutes and write a cohesive and deeply analytical essay with what sounds like an obnoxiously defective kazoo emanating from your classmate’s nose, or what sounds like liquid mucus bubbling in his throat. In these moments, as the flu infectee winds up, preparing to hack what you know has been accumulating in the back of his throat for the past week, any brilliant train of thought you had is lost. You try to push through the noise that makes all the hairs on your arm stand up and your gag reflex kick-in, but it’s impossible. Watching the precious seconds tick by, you are forced to wait out the raging storm. Fully set on edge, you shoot the culprit a dirty look. But, not bothered at all by his own bodily noises, he continues to sit and make the rest of the class endure. So fellow sick Patriots, I beg, please consider the rest of us and step outside of the class to deal with your sickly nastiness.