The waiter leaves and I lean forward on to the table, affecting a look of seriousness but actually just covering my nose with my fingers. The American looks a little uncomfortable. It is a very small table and our faces are now a little too close together. I lean back but maintain the same dynamic with my arms and hands. The American relaxes and continues.

'So I think this project has great potential,' he says, and I nod, vigorously, all the while squeezing at the bottom of my nose with my fingers and sniffing. I can't feel anything. Maybe whatever it was has gone. But I can't take any chances. I stop squeezing but give it a couple of casual brushes with the back of my hand and one deep sniff.

'... and with the right kind of backing, it could really ...'

God. What if through my batting and squeezing and sniffing and brushing I've actually dislodged whatever was there? What if it's no longer coming out of my nose? What if it's out? I'm nodding madly, but I'm not listening to the American at all. I'm worrying about where on earth this thing has gone. What if it's on my lips, or on the end of my nose? My God! My nose! What if it's on my nose?

I lean forward again and cover my nose. I know I am moving around too much but this is damage limitation. The American man looks a little startled but continues talking, now leaning back in his chair a little as he does so. I bat once again at my nose and try to hide it with more vigorous nodding. He says something that sounds like it might be a joke and I laugh loudly. Turns out it wasn't a joke.

And then some words ring through my head.

'I know what you guys are like over here ...'

Suddenly, I realise exactly what I look like. The American has started to avoid my eye but I know what I look like.

I look like I am on drugs. I am laughing and fidgeting and sniffing and I look like I am on drugs!

I am not on cocaine! I want to shout. But doing so would just make me look paranoid, and surely that would be just more 'evidence'?

And so I accept the inevitable. That he will have to see that something has come out of my nose. I sigh, and I lean back, and I start to listen to what he has to say.

Half an hour later, I am in the toilets of the hotel. I look in the mirror. There is nothing coming out of my nose. There is, however, a big, white, minty ring of toothpaste around my mouth. I realise what the waiter had been trying to tell me.