I Think I am Going to Die

Ever since I have been traveling down the path towards my asset division I have been living in the wonderful city of Washington D.C. Living in the nations capitol has opened up a new world to me and everyday I find solace in the fact that the hum-drum suburbs are quickly becoming a distant memory. Most of the time I enjoy this notion, however, today is not one of them.
Since my relocation I have discovered the wonders of public transportation. Sure I had ridden the Metro system on a daily basis to and from work but there remained another facet of the mass transit that had eluded me before I lived within the border of the city. The bus system. While I cannot say that I have become an expert of the routes and bus lines, I have come to believe that the system overall is fairly reliable. With a fair amount of certainty I can assume that the S1, S2 and S4 will take me down the long stretch of 16th St. NW towards the area where I most need to go for work. Another option available to me is the 42. The 42 begins in the neighborhood of Mt. Pleasant, drives through Adams Morgan, down Connecticut Ave towards Dupont Circle and beyond. I rarely ride far beyond Dupont Circle so I can't discuss the 'beyond' portion.
Usually riding the bus is a fairly benign experience and I am just happy to arrive safely at or near my final destination. Today, however, was completely different. I got on the 42 at its point of origin in Mt. Pleasant, score for me as I had my pick of seats. I chose the window seat on the right side of the bus immediately behind the backdoor. I take that seat whenever possible because, well, I am a backdoor man. I settled into the seat I open the newspaper to follow current events, read my horoscope, and catch up on 'Pearls Before Swine' (I just love that little pig.) As the ride progresses the bus begins to fill up with morning commuters. This morning everything was running as normal until about half way into my trip to work.
As I was reading the paper I could tell the rider behind me was getting a little close and then it happened. I felt a subtle but apparent burst of air on the back of my neck. The passenger behind me had just coughed on the back of my neck. He coughed on me! Ever heard of covering your mouth you disgusting germ factory? For some reason I couldn't muster the nerve to turn around and confront him. I mean, what kind of horrible individual open mouth coughs in this day and age let alone on public transport?
Slowly I turned my head ever so slightly to peak out of the corner of my eye and I could see that he was a little on the brown side. Now I don't ever want to be considered a racist nor a racial profiler but I think he was of some type of middle eastern decent. Could he be linked to al-Qiada? I think for sure he must.
Now I sit in my office typing away knowing that my fate is sealed. I am going to probably be the first person of hundreds, perhaps thousands to die from some sort of new biological weapon that has been introduced into the populace of D.C. via this new form of suicide bomber.
Why 42? Why? You have been so good to me, why have you forsaken me now?
As I further ponder my fate I can see the bright side of things. The first thing I would like to say before I part the here and now, "Good Bye student loan payments." I will miss, missing paying you on time.

The irony of 42,
42