Jim said his portion of Trader Giotto's Fresh Vegetable Lasagna Pasadena looked inedible. He asked me if I wanted it, but he was right: it really didn't look very appealing.
"I only touched it with my fork; I didn't eat any" he said, in case I thought I'd catch AIDS from him. I've known Jim for years; he should have known better. Or maybe he was just having a bad night.
I wondered if he was often treated as a pariah. I didn't know how I could explain that airplane food only tastes good a few miles away from earth.