Airflow Management Under Duress

Subject: A Small Apology Regarding My Travel Experience

Dear Ms. Hart:

I want to start with a sincere apology. I understand that feedback after an event should be constructive, gracious, and ideally brief. What comes next might challenge at least two of those expectations.

First, thank you for organizing the airport pickup. Your representative was punctual, courteous, and immediately friendly when I arrived from New York after my cross-country flight. I appreciated the warm welcome, and I hope I demonstrated my gratitude, even if, in hindsight, my behavior might have seemed a bit unusual.

About ten minutes into the drive, I noticed your colleague was struggling with what seemed to be a very severe chest cold. It was unmistakable, manifesting in waves—deep, resonant, and convincingly medical. Initially, I attempted to ignore it, maintaining eye contact, nodding thoughtfully, and taking what I hoped was a discreet, shallow breath.

This approach proved unsustainable.

To protect my composure and possibly my respiratory system, I started opening my window slightly—just a crack—every few minutes. My goal was to introduce small, controlled bursts of fresh air without disrupting the conversation or drawing attention. Unfortunately, this created a rhythm that was neither subtle nor very effective. It was also mentioned that the outside temperature was about 19 degrees, which is not entirely humane.

I thought about leaving the window open, but I quickly realized that would be seen as either a protest or passive aggression since the outside temperature was a bone-crushing 19 degrees. Instead, I chose a sporadic approach, which I now see had the unintended effect of worsening your colleague’s condition.

At one point, she remarked—quite reasonably—that the repeated opening and closing of the window in freezing weather seemed to be making her cough worse. This was my first opportunity to apologize, and I took it. Or rather, I attempted to take it. My apology was, however, interrupted by a coughing episode of such magnitude that it rendered my words both inaudible and, in the circumstances, somewhat irrelevant.

Shortly after this, she demonstrated a level of perceptiveness I had not anticipated. She said, quite directly, “I know why you’re opening and closing the window—would you like to move to the back seat?”

This introduced a new issue. Although the offer was generous, I quickly figured that inside a closed vehicle, there's no significant difference in air quality between the front and back seats, at least not in a way that would impact my health risks. My hesitation, I believe, communicated more than I intended.

She then added, with admirable candor, “I know what you’re thinking—it probably won’t matter. I’m doomed.”

At this point, I found myself in the difficult position of wanting to disagree but unable to do so convincingly. I attempted another apology. Again, it did not land.

Complicating matters further, I realized I was starting to sweat—noticeably. This was not caused by the external temperature, which stayed firmly in winter territory, but rather by a mix of anxiety, suppressed laughter (at the sheer absurdity of the situation), and a sharp awareness that actions had been exposed.

Your colleague, observing this, asked if I was experiencing a panic attack.

I assured her that I was not, while simultaneously exhibiting many of the classic symptoms of one.

She then kindly offered to drop me off somewhere so I could get an Uber or Lyft to finish the trip. This thoughtful gesture, however, added another layer of awkwardness. Declining the offer meant I had to insist everything was fine, which by then, I could no longer convincingly do.

Around the middle of my 45-minute drive, I made the unfortunate choice to clear my throat. This did not go unnoticed. She asked with genuine curiosity whether I had already caught her cold within the first fifteen minutes, noting that it took her husband three days to develop symptoms.

I cannot adequately describe the level of internal conflict this produced.

By the time we reached the hotel, I had gone through apology, denial, acceptance, and what I can only call quiet existential reflection. I believe I thanked her. I hope I did.

The speaking engagement went well, and I appreciate the opportunity. The audience was engaged, the discussion was productive, and overall, the event was, by any professional standard, a success.

However—and this brings me to the final part of my apology—I actually broke her husband’s record.

Within two days, I caught the same cold, which then lasted for about a week and a half. As I write this, I am recovering, though I have become very familiar with the contents of three separate boxes of tissues.

So when you asked in your follow-up email whether I was satisfied with how the event experience went, I paused—not out of dissatisfaction, but because I wanted to answer honestly without unintentionally blaming anyone for a situation that, in many ways, was nobody’s fault but still entirely unavoidable.

In closing, please accept my apologies for the window, for the visible anxiety, for the incomplete apologies during the drive, and, most of all, for the length of this explanation.

With appreciation, now that my respiratory system is functioning better,

Anthony