these pretzels are making me...

One of the sweetest and most bizarre people I've met here in Calgary is our principal oboist, JL. Yesterday quite a few Calgary Phil musicians, including me and JL, were playing a marathon Bach Society concert -- 2 and 1/2 hours of choral music by Bach, Handel, Buxtehude, and Grutzmacher's 'Boccherini' cello concerto. By intermission I was already rather worn out; JL only played on the two first-half pieces, so on his way out he must have noticed me slumping in a chair next to my bass.

JL: Hey, you sounded good, I hadn't really heard you play before.

Me: Oh, thanks, you too.

JL: Yeah, um, let me give you these pretzels. They've been in my pocket for a few days, but they don't go bad. They're pretzels, what's to go bad in a pretzel!?

Me: Uh, thanks, that's alright though...

JL: No no, they're fine, really, here take them!

Me: Sure...okay. Um, thanks.

JL: Oh alright, here -- I'll eat one just to show you're they're not poisonous or anything. (he takes a pretzel out of the already half-finished bag and eats it.) Of course, I might pass out and die in an hour, and you'll never know. But still, they're good!

Me: (too dumbfounded to speak, accepting the bag of pulverized pretzel bits)

JL: They don't go bad, they're pretzels!

DS (another oboist): Did you hear about this guy who got salmonella and died just from handling some pork rind dog treats? He didn't eat them, just gave them to his dog -- isn't that awful?

Me: Hey, you haven't been keeping any pork rind dog treats in the pocket with the pretzels, have you?

JL: No, I've never even touched a pork rind dog treat, I'm pretty sure.

Me: Oh good, then I'm probably safe. Pretzel, anyone?