When traveling, being right on schedule is supposed to be a good thing.
Bodily functions, however, are a strong exception to that rule…
“Um…could you pass me my barf bag. I hate to you leave you alone with the baby, but I better try to see if my body wants to do anything before our next flight.”
Last I left you, I had somehow miraculously survived the first leg of my airline adventure from hell, making it from Wichita to Atlanta on my way back to North Carolina. And if you recall from before that, my body was on a pretty regular schedule expelling disgusting fluids from alternating ends of my body.
Now despite being surprised by which end of my digestive system was busy during the most recent mid-air incident–spoiler alert: I pooed when I should have spewed–I still had every reason to believe that something was going to happen after another 2-hour interval. But this time, I was determined to be proactive.
So, as a result, I found myself sitting in the men’s bathroom of the Atlanta airport, trying for at least a solid 25 minutes to make myself yak into my barf bag.
And wouldn’t you know it, despite feeling like I should be yakking, I simply could not make it happen! The worst part was that I knew that something would happen eventually, but for the time being, I had a flight to catch.
“One last time,” I begrudgingly told myself, as a part of me hoped that I was finally done with all this bullcrap. “Let’s see how far down my throat I can get this finger…”
“BWAAAAAAH! SPEEEEEEEW! SPLATTTTTTT!”
“Oh sweet success!” I thought to myself as I began to fill up the bag with nothing more than Sprite and stomach acid–at this point, that’s all I had ‘left in the tank.’
“SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLAAAASH!” the sound transitioned from liquid hitting waxed paper to liquid hitting liquid. Ohhh, the bag was filling up too fast!
“I’ve always fancied myself to be something of a Boy Scout,” I quipped to myself as I deftly opened my backup barf bag with my spare hand and swapped them out during one of the 4-second rest intervals between heaves.
So. Much. Liquid. Like, how had I not vomited earlier, especially with all my intentional efforts to do so???
Honestly, though I didn’t care. I was just thrilled to be yakkity-yakking there in the bathroom instead of out in the terminal or on the plane.
I wrapped up my business and skedaddled back to where I had left my bride and my baby. Later, MBB told me that she had never seen me so white and colorless than when I came back from that bathroom. The funny part about that is that Baby was oblivious to my situation, and just absolutely lit up in delight when she saw me. Touching, I know.
Whew, now only one more flight to survive…
“Ladies and Gentlemen, uh, welcome to Raleigh-Durham. The local time is 12:45 pm, and its wonderful 79 degrees out,” the pilot might as well have been whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
I had survived the flight to RDU–barely. Boy, what miserable mental fortitude I had to conjure up to endure that. Ugh. It wasn’t fun trying to do nothing more than exist for an hour and a half, but I had made it.
“Maaaake way, for Prince Ali!” I maintained a sense of humor as we sped past the security exit to the general area where Popo–my father-in-law–was eagerly awaiting us, totally oblivious to the hell I had just gone through to get there…a hell that I might not necessarily be quite all the way through just yet, in fact.
“You’ll have to excuse him–he hasn’t had the smoothest of flights,” My Beautiful Bride explained to her father as I (seemingly) rudely hobbled past him and into the nearest restroom.
Surprisingly, this trip to the bathroom was notably less dramatic than the last 5 visits, though I wasn’t feeling completely peachy afterwards.
“Just don’t talk to me until we get home,” I meekly requested to my car mates as we loaded up in Popo’s CRV. It looked like I would have another 45 minutes or so of just trying to hang on to existence ahead of me, and I was pretty sure trying to engage in any type of conversation or social interaction would not end well.
So, I just sat there and stared, the only thought I allowed myself to think was “We’re almost home. This is all almost over. We’re almost home…”
When we finally rolled up in to the driveway, I couldn’t get myself into the house soon enough.
Literally.
I took three steps out of the car before unloading what looked like neon-green anti-freeze all over Popo’s newly-planted azalea bush right next to the side-door into the garage. Ah, you gotta love that stomach acid.
Oh. So close. So very close to making it home–two feet, to be exact. A mere twenty-four more inches and I would have been in the garage, and roughly twenty paces and I would have made it to a proper bathroom. Oh, the irony.
Good news is that that turned out to be my, umm, ‘last hurrah’, with no more incidents after that. I just took a shower, drank a Sprite, and then passed out in bed for the next 18 hours.
Dear Lord, I pray that I–or any other member of the human race–ever have to endure anything like that again…
The point of the story is just become a ----- vegan already. Sure, it took me another 5+ years to get the message, but seriously, do you know how many times I’ve had food-related illness since turning the Big V 3-1/2 years ago? Zero. Nada. Nil.
Now, just go ask my Dear Mother or My Beautiful Bride about the consequences of eating suspect meat or dairy. Uh-huh. That’s right. Go ahead. Be prepared to hear about camping out on bathroom and/or ER floors, or perhaps you’ll be regaled with a tale about the worst way to end a Costa Rican vacation–or how about hearing the story of the $13k Emergency Room bills? Oh, you’re gonna get regaled, all right.
So put down that custom Chipotle burrito and set aside your chorizo and eggs, my friend, and come join me on the Green Side.
*ahem* You know, ‘Green’ as in green plants/plant-based diet, etc. etc. It’s funny. Or at least it’s a humorous statement.
I promise you, we vegans are still funny as meat-eaters, though we might be less ironic.
…
…
…
You know…because it’s harder to get the iron your body needs as a vegan…
*sigh*
It’s a humorous statement…
Content created on: 28/29 April & 4 May 2023 (Fri/Sat/Thurs)
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