I was watching Portlandia the other day, and they were showing this bit where people were having an "Allergy-Pride Parade" and all the different people in the parade had various allergies to raise "awareness", and the announcer ate some candy and then SPOILER ALERT died from her allergy to dextrose (or whatever), and the final thing in the parade was a hearse carrying her dead body. It was amusing.
That reminded me about how for some reason when I was about 10 I was envious of all the kids that had allergies. I wished I had an allergy, so that it could be something special about me. I pictured myself at a party, and the host would say, "Kent, would you like a food item?" And I would respond, "No, thanks, I'm allergic to food items." And then all the kids would oooooh and aaaaah and feel sorry for me and treat me special for the rest of my life.
Well, it just so happened that one day I had an orange-flavored Jolly Rancher and then had a serious case of the runs not long after. Therefore, it was pretty obvious to me that I was allergic to orange flavoring. I told all my friends at school, and they were careful not to give me anything with orange flavoring. This was a very convenient allergy, since orange-flavored whatevers were usually the least desirable. "Oh, I can't have the orange popsicle, I'm allergic. Instead, you'll need to give me the last cherry one while you choke down one of the 10 orange ones left that nobody else wants."
I wasn't about to give up actual oranges, since they were one of my favorite fruits. I had a habit at that age of always taking one or two oranges with me to bed. I would peel them (I was very good at peeling oranges, probably better than Kurt even, and could always peel them in one peel, which I would then try to put back together to fool some poor sap into thinking that an orange was just sitting there, but really there was nothing inside!) and then chuck the peels down the crack between my bed and the wall. When they started getting moldy and smelly, it was time to clean it out, and I'm pretty sure my mom, while proud of my daily orange habit, was not proud of my lazy, disgusting orange peel habit. Anyway, I tried an orange, didn't get the runs, and deduced that my allergy was specific to orange-flavoring.
Not long after, I went on a bike ride with my friend Austin Thomas and his dad down to Will's Pit Stop, which, at the age of 10, was the equivalent of riding across the country. We stopped at Will's to get some snacks, and Austin's dad got an orange soda and asked if I wanted some. I was about to be super offended that he didn't somehow know I was allergic to orange-flavoring, but Austin stepped in and said, "He can't, Dad, he's allergic to orange flavoring." His dad rolled his eyes, but I was very proud that I had such a sensitive and caring friend, and also can you buy me a candy bar?
I'm not sure how long after that I was offered an orange-flavored Jolly Rancher and I turned it down due to my severe allergy problem (most likely fatal), and asked for a different flavor, like watermelon for example. The kid said it was the last one, so I decided that maybe my allergies weren't as serious as I thought, and took the Jolly Rancher anyway, explaining that "it only acts up on weekends" and I'd just "need to be careful for the next hour or so". I ate the Jolly Rancher, enjoyed it immensely, and decided that I wasn't allergic to orange-flavoring anymore. It probably lasted like a month, 2 months tops.
