Sometimes God has a strange sense of humor

I'm a bit of a closeted hypochondriac. It's not something I readily admit, but I've been known to cancel plans if a friend is coughing heavily or avoid them altogether should they have contracted the flu in the last six months. Now that the weather is too warm for gloves—meaning I actually have to touch things like door handles and subway poles—my hands are cracked and dry from using too much Purell. So naturally, I've been fascinated by this honeymooning jerk off with a deadly strain of TB who eschewed his doctor's advice against flying and jetsetted around the world, thanking the powers that be that I did not fly Air France on my recent trip to Marseilles.

Fast forward to this morning, where I'm avoiding work by running out for a bagel and then eating said bagel while reading Gridskipper, which tells me that Patient X spent an undisclosed 72 hours in Manhattan. Intrigued, I click on the link where Chris Mohney helpfully tells me, "So if you stood in line at Essa Bagel in Murray Hill on May 25 with some other guy who was coughing a lot, you might want to, you know, get yourself checked out."

I'll give you one guess where my freakin' bagel came from this morning.

UPDATE: Patient X now has an identity and CNN has a good roundup of all the infuriating details, including insight into this dude's sense-of-entitlement douchebaggery.