Is it okay to sneeze into a napkin? I’m not referring to a napkin that you own. You can do anything you want to one of those napkins. I could care less. What I’m talking about are cloth napkins at restaurants or at homes where you’ve been invited.
The question arose — actually it arises frequently for reasons I’ll broach momentarily — as I sat in a Swiss hotel restaurant, after having just consumed a couple of excellent croissant. That’s when I got the unfortunate and irresistible urge to sneeze.
The restaurant had attractive green tablecloths with matching napkins. If I’d had tissues or a handkerchief I’d have gladly used those instead. But that requires forethought. Also, the average tissue is hardly up to the task. You need a half dozen to meet the challenge and who wants to carry around a wad of paper in your pocket?
Handkerchiefs are an excellent, environmentally friendly idea. But they seem to have fallen out of fashion in recent decades. An Internet search claims otherwise. Perhaps they’re talking about colorful pocket squares, not the no nonsense sheets, roughly the size of pillowcases, that my needs require.
There was a time when handkerchiefs, monogrammed or otherwise, were a default gift when your imagination failed you. And I occasionally find examples around the house, some of them quite artful, washed and ironed, of course, that belonged to my father and probably his father before him. But, again, adding handkerchiefs to your wardrobe requires forethought. Since it’s all I can do to remember my keys and wallet I’m not going to waste precious time hunting for a blow cloth. And when it comes to packing for a trip, fuggetaboutit. I routinely leave behind approximately fifteen percent of what I’m supposed to take. Handkerchiefs don’t even make it onto the list that I should have but didn’t assemble long ago.
I’m speaking as someone with a condition that a socially responsible person would probably devote more time to planning ahead for. A few years back I noticed that after a satisfying meal — primarily breakfast though also lunch and dinner — I’d sneeze several times in quick succession. My family noticed it to. They’re not nice people and they started making fun of me. So on the assumption that you can find anything on the Internet I looked it up.
I have no recollection what my search terms were. But, boom!, I suffered from a condition called gustatory rhinitis. It’s an inflammation of the nose that occurs after eating hot or spicy foods. That doesn't precisely describe what I’ve got. “Snatiation,” another descriptor, comes closer. It’s a combination of the words sneezing and satiation.
I also consulted a couple of online etiquette experts, not about my condition; about whether it’s acceptable to use your napkin in an emergency. Miss Manners fielded a question from a reader who was chagrinned that their otherwise polite, refined guests didn’t think twice about using their host’s cloth, nicely starched and ironed napkins when tissues weren’t handy. She’s revolted but feels uncomfortable about asking them to refrain from the behavior or by discreetly sliding a box of Kleenex in their direction.
Miss Manners advice? Give them a fresh napkin “not one to be done with a grimace, or while holding the soiled napkin at arm’s length.” I’m not sure I agree. Supplying them with a new napkin would only draw attention to the flagrant violation of etiquette and mortify your guest. I assume the host is going to launder the napkin even if it’s used for nothing more than daintily dabbing the sides of the mouth. So what’s the big deal?
A British website fielded a query from a woman struck by a case of the sniffles while lunching at an aristocratic home. Both questioner and etiquette expert agreed that it would have been entirely inappropriate to resort to her host’s linen napkin, undoubtedly from a linen shop bearing the royal seal of approval. But the expert went further to state that “It is considered poor manners to engage in a full nose-blow at any dining table.”
Her suggestion: politely excuse yourself to use the loo. No explanation necessary. Maybe not. But that would just seem to draw even more attention and set your host and assembled lords and ladies to wondering whether you weren’t feeling well.
As far as I’m concerned, the most annoying possible outcome is to sit there trying unsuccessfully to stifle your sniffles and making everybody else’s dining experience decidedly less appetizing. Better to get the ordeal over with as fast as possible.
So what did I do in Switzerland? The dilemma confronted me as I was dining alone and surrounded by strangers. So I was only marginally concerned about making a bad impression. I’d likely never see any of these people again. I did suffer from passing guilt — if I felt completely comfortable with my lapse of manners, if I suffered zero remorse, I wouldn’t feel the need to address the subject now and you probably wish I hadn’t— but I comforted myself that it must be an issue that the staff stoically deals with frequently. I also left a few francs on the table to atone for my sins.
Ralph Gardner, Jr. is a journalist who divides his time between New York City and Columbia County. More of his work can be found be found on Substack.
The views expressed by commentators are solely those of the authors. They do not necessarily reflect the views of this station or its management.
