The obvious reason for leaning in to food is the fear of spillage. You've Frankensteined together a mayo and ham roulade that is just dripping in brown butter sauce and sauerkraut, and you need to eat it by the literal handful. Record scratch: You're also wearing a tuxedo! You better lean forward to eat, just to be safe. But that's the dramatic lean in, possibly a full body lean in. Next time you see someone eating damn near anything, just watch for that almost imperceptible wobble that will in no way assist in limiting drips, especially if the food doesn't drip in the first place. Can't let those Skittles stain your trousers.
Holding Your Breath Near A Sleeping Person
Unless you're the Babadook, respecting that someone is sleeping is a pretty decent thing to do. Are you the Babadook? Stop reading my article, Babadook. I don't approve of how you live your life. Not the gay part, but the creepy, ceiling-crawling, murderous guy in a goofy hat part.
Come on, Baba. It's three in the morning. Couldn't you have dook-dook-dook'd it up a little earlier?
As part of being a good Samaritan, if you're near a friend or loved one who's asleep, you'll probably hold off on cymbal practice for a while. In fact, it's entirely likely that if you need to move past someone in their sleep, you're going to engage in the ancient art of holding your breath and creep-walking, which is kind of like the way burglars in old-timey cartoons use to walk. It's a dramatically stupid kind of tip-toeing designed to turn you from a clunky elephant into a stealthy cheetah. A stealthy cheetah that just happens to be shaped like the very human Brad, the clumsy marketing manager in sweatpants.
In the history of ever, not one person has been startled awake by the raucous breathing of another human in a state of wakeful, normal breathing. I'm not even sure what sort of Darth Vaderesque hijinks need to be happening all up in your maw to turn you into a sleep-shattering foghorn of a person, but it's likely you don't need to worry about it. None of this will stop you, though, from holding your breath, horror-movie style, under the assumption that it's going to keep your friend in the Land of Nod.
Rushing Across The Street
As a people, we've come to regard a car as a sacred vessel. It's like the Ark of the Covenant, to keep my now definitely planned theme of referencing Indiana Jones going. It contains and transports holy relics from place to place and must be revered and respected and also never gazed upon! If you find this description hard to relate to and think "Dude, I drive a '95 Corolla and the passenger seat fell out one day," then you need only to change your perspective. Which is to say you should stand at a corner and try to cross the street.