We successfully made it from San Diego to Denver.
We were one short plane ride from home...more specifically a one hour and forty five minute plane ride.
Easy peasy pudding pie, right?
Wrong.
Very wrong.
We buckled up and settled in for our very first return flight home and then things went wrong.
Very wrong.
Like the very opposite of easy peasy pudding pie.
We hadn't yet reached cruising altitude when my stomach led a very impromptu revolt against the rest of my body.
A body that was very against anti-peaceful conditions and was very much in favor of forming an alliance with the stomach and its contents.
The stomach, instead, declared war.
I clutched Matt's arm and whispered, "I'm going to pass out."
I then promptly passed out.
I awoke to the feeling of a cold cloth on my head and thoughts of stomach rebellion on my mind.
I decided I was not going to vomit in front of the whole of flight 5390, so I held everything back until we were allowed to get up.
I raced to the bathroom (if you can really call it a "room") and was somehow able to contort my body into a position that allowed me to vomit into the toilet.
I was originally going to attempt the sink but since it was only the size of my fist I decided to shoot for pretzel-style vomiting instead.
It worked.
I had returned to my seat for only about 10 minutes when it hit me again.
I rushed to the bathroom only to find it occupied.
(This is when the horror film music started playing in my head.)
I asked (demanded) the flight attendant (who was standing in the kitchen area busily making drinks) for a trash bag.
She complied.
Then I complied (with my stomach).
I sat in the floor of the airplane kitchen (?) and puked into a trash bag.
You realize that this is only my second time on a plane, right?
And the first time was only on the trip out to California, so technically this is still my first flight.
And I spent it puking into a trash bag.
While sitting in the floor.
I thought I had composed myself enough by the time the seat belt light went on that I could hold out on more vomiting until we landed.
I was wrong.
I puked into an appropriately named "barf bag" that Matt held open for me.
In front of 137 passengers.
That's 137 passengers who are probably at this very moment thinking of me while staring into their toilet bowls.
I here make a public apology to all 137 of you...I'm sorry.
I truly am.
I stumbled off the plane while instructing London to grab the three remaining barf bags in case I needed them on the way through the airport.
Turns out I did.
I vomited in two different airport bathrooms and once on the way to one such bathroom.
I reached out to London at one point and said, "Hand me a barf bag."
He looked at me with worried eyes, held up two bags and said, "You only have two left!"
I almost laughed but I was too busy puking.
This lasted the entire two hour car ride home and into the early morning hours of the next day.
The bad news?
It was quite possibly the worst ending to a trip, ever...particularly being my first trip on a plane.
The good news?
I lost five pounds.
B
You can see the rest of this session here under "Rehkop Baby".
This lasted the entire two hour car ride home and into the early morning hours of the next day.
The bad news?
It was quite possibly the worst ending to a trip, ever...particularly being my first trip on a plane.
The good news?
I lost five pounds.
B
You can see the rest of this session here under "Rehkop Baby".
3 comments:
You don't have to apologize to those passengers you are already all over youtube, and they thank you for having interesting footage from otherwise boring trips:) Good news about the 5 pounds, and London's ability to do math.
Great pictures!
I must say, I will be searching YouTube now. Didn't even think about that! Great story! Sorry, but it is.
Oh my gosh... that's so aweful. I feel terrible about giggling my way through this blog! I'm so sorry, CA literally left you with a bad taste in your mouth...
:-( Manda :-)
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