And speaking of old frailwomenfolk.
When i worked at the fort Caroline Publix, in the now defunct Gazebo shopping center (the area had such charm, little beer serving ciggie smoking movie therattrer)
I was working at the service desk and this trenchcoat clad old lady approached rather stealthily for someone in her respiratory state.
she carried an old lady purse, which is now considered fashionable/vintage/character laden....I believe i have one that is probably a reproduciton of the one she held clutched to her chest.....handstraps tucked under her chin......I stood in my little square opening, between the computer recess and lottery apparatus.....waiting, assesssing.....She looked cute, witht that fast walk, small stature, sense of desperation to quickly accomplish something.....
Immediately, before I finished my typically warm and needy "hELLoooooooooooo----------"
she opened her red leather pocketbook and puked into it, still so swift, expert like in the mechanics of popping the brass cinch closure ( i don't know what it's called, but it's n ot a snap, it makes a fab popping sound, it's almost like yo0u are snapping your fingers to open it) and making sure the regurgitated stream went directly inside, not a drop spilling to the floor....
I believe she may have vomitted again, gasping for any forgiving wisp of breath, and when she finally stopped retching long enough to request my service, she croaked a pathetic, "pack of camels...................unfiltered.."
I realized that she was vomitting, most likely, goo from her lungs.....(don't know if that's physiologically possible) It was yellowy beige in color.....and she contiued to fill her c. 1960's scarlet beauty with festering spew......paid, in cash, for her pack of assassins, and retreated out the doors to partake in her carcinogenic orgy.