Blessed Is the Purell in Hand

By Joel Stein

I remember the first time I saw Purell instant handwash. It was on the subway, and a woman who must have been a model removed a bottle from her purse. She raised it high and squirted a long stream down onto her cupped hands, which she rubbed together like she was starting some crazy, germ-killing fire. It was just like in the movies, except this movie was made by a neurotic Jewish guy like me. Like movies are.

Until that moment, I had never been particularly germophobic, mostly because that would require cleaning my apartment. But once I found out about these easy-to-use antibacterial products (soap, Purell, body lotion, sponge, detergent, telephone swabs), I became obsessed. It reached its climax last month when I heard about the Killer Germ. The germ, a new strain of Staphylococcus aureus bacteria immune to antibiotics, had killed a middle-aged woman in Hong Kong. Normally, I wouldn't be afraid of Staphylococcus aureus bacteria because I don't know what it is. But Killer Germ I understood.

In fact, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was scared. I was frightened. I was a master of synonyms. Panicked, I called comedian Howie Mandel. Of all the germophobes I'd heard about, Mandel seemed the most grounded. He'd had a guesthouse built so he can live there when his kids get sick. He spent much of the 1980s putting surgical gloves over his head and blowing them up with his nose as part of his act--probably just so he could write off his huge purchases of surgical gloves. And perhaps strangest of all, he refused to kiss Carmen Electra when she was on his talk show. He says it was because she was recovering from a cold. But I think it was because she sleeps with Dennis Rodman.

Before we talked, Mandel kept me on hold for 20 seconds while he Lysoled his phone. He had not heard of the Killer Germ. "Are you calling to ruin my life?" he yelled. Then he explained how his precautions were actually logical responses to real risks. I found myself agreeing with him until I noticed the amount of times he used the phrase mucous membrane.

But it turns out the Killer Germ is not the result of lazy hygiene but the result of people needlessly taking antibiotics to fight off head colds, thus somehow causing the germs they already have to mutate into crazed killers. I've been told by a doctor friend that antibacterial products do the same thing. Worse, they don't keep you from getting sick, because colds and flus are caused by viruses, not bacteria. Before I could even ask, my friend told me there was no antiviral hand soap.

The Killer Germ is a Frankenstein's monster built from our collective neuroses. To fight this new battle, I now think that everyone, even exhibitionist models with a knack for sensuous hand gestures, should abandon their Purell. Except me. I haven't been waging the germ war because I'm afraid of getting sick. I like being sick. It means I get to stay home and watch that little yodeling mountain climber on The Price Is Right. No, I'm waging my own secret, illogical germ warfare because that way, when the end comes and it's just me and Mandel against the Killer Germ, he'll have to have me as a guest on his syndicated talk show.