Thursday, October 7, 2010

A Cautionary Tale.

My roommate, Mary, has a friend who somehow got a bunch of tickets to the Sunday afternoon session of general conference.  He invited her and told her she could bring a friend.  I was chosen to be that friend.  Huzzah.  So, after I came back from the first-session-breakfast-casserole party at my aunt's house, we left to drive up to Salt Lake.  Mary and her friend, Tolson, were in the front.  I was in the back with two of Tolson's female friends whose names escape me now.  Things were going as well as an awkward car ride with strangers can be expected to go.  However, as we were passing American Fork, I felt a familiar sensation coming on. 

In case you didn't know, I don't have the strongest stomach when it comes to motion.  Or existing, for that matter.  I'm always nauseous in the morning.  Car rides are a nightmare.  I can't go on swing sets.  Roller coasters are not an option.  Even shaking my head semi-vigorously is not an option.  I'm convinced that I'm missing something in my inner ear.  Heaven forbid I ever get pregnant.

Anyway, that familiar nauseating feeling set in near American Fork.  At this point, we still had about 30 minutes left in the car.  I didn't want to draw attention to myself by asking to switch seats or anything, so I started settling in for the long haul.  I am, after all, a pro at this kind of thing.  I leaned back, focused on the horizon, breathed deeply, applied pressure to my inner wrist, tried not to think about bacon, etc.  I was uncomfortable, but I felt like everything was under control.  

Time passed.  We entered South Salt Lake.  I felt my handle on the situation starting to slip.  'But we're so close,' I thought, 'I can make it'.  A few minutes later, I felt something start to come up.  It became clear that I probably wasn't going to make it.  I reluctantly began to ask Tolson if he had a bag in his car when I was stopped short.  My mouth had suddenly become occupied with something else.  I attempted to keep as calm as it is possible to be when one's mouth is full of vomit.  I looked around for somewhere to vacate the contents of my mouth without anybody noticing.  I briefly considered swallowing, but that thought was interrupted by a second wave from my distressed stomach.  I gave up all hope of being inconspicuous as I started throwing up on the floor of the car.

The conversation in the car turned into a shocked silence as emission after emission (6, by my count) issued from the depths.  I attempted to mutter my fervent apologies between streams, but was interrupted every time.  As I was barfing, I noticed that this had to be one of the most productive vomit sessions I'd ever participated in.  I think at one point Mary asked me slightly incredulously if I was finished.  I also noticed that that aforementioned breakfast casserole didn't look nearly as appetizing the second time around. 

I finished and kept my head down until we pulled into a gas station.  I started to put my shoes on, but stopped when I noticed that they were full of barf.  So, I ran in to the gas station bathroom barefoot, green-skinned, and covered in puke. 

I locked the door and walked around in circles like an insane person, cursing myself for not at least attempting to stick my head out the window.  As I came to realize that this wasn't a nightmare, I began to convince myself that I was going to stay in the gas station until everyone left and just ride the bus home.  I figured I'd fit right in on the bus.  At that point, Mary came in the bathroom and informed that I had to hurry because we were still going to conference whether I liked it or not.  She brought a giant t-shirt from Tolson's trunk and helped me wash out my (brand new!) skirt.  

Once back in the car, Mary tried bravely to lighten the mood with some barf-related jokes, but the damage was done.  The girls in the back were practically sitting on top of each other in an attempt to get away from me.  Due to my light-headedness and the faint odor of bile, conference was less than enjoyable.  I'm not even going to talk about the smell that awaited us when we got back to the car.

Casualties: My shirt, my Toms (curses!), and my dignity.  

Props to Mary, who cleaned out the car while I was having a break down in the bathroom and attempted to come up with her own embarrassing story to make me feel better.  A true champ.  Even though her embarrassing story couldn't even begin to eclipse mine.


A Few Tacos Shy... said...

I am sadly, so familiar with your situation. My friends all immediately hand over their keys if we are taking their car.

Toms can go in the washing machine. And good thing you probably don't ever have to see those girls again. I peed my pants at the doctors office once if that makes you feel any better...

Bear and Stephy said...

Drew, we've got to swap some puking stories sometime. I've got good ones.

Kristal said...

Oh my gosh Drew! That would be awful, I'm sorry! But I really doubt that the other people in the car were judging you, they probably felt really bad for you and just didn't know what to do. If that helps at all.

Gavin said...

Drew... I should not have read this while I was at school. I have been laughing so hard for so long and its getting embarrassing. But I didn't even notice how embarrassed I was because your story wins. Everything. I love you and we all appreciate your cooperation when we sometimes laugh at your inability to not feel sick. Your blog is the best.

katemonster said...

drew just remember that everything is funnier when you barf. you just couldn't handle how not funny the car ride was so you had to spice things up. I love you. I will hug the barf out of your soul anytime you wish. come visit me here. Lovekate

Drew said...

Alta! I washed my toms like you said. The smell is gone. Life can continue.