Oh, No He Did-ant

Last Friday night, we had a little family celebration for my birthday.  "The Olds," as Alan calls them (Meems, Leonard, and Alan's mom) were in attendance along with a fun friend from my Baylor XO days and her daughter who is a freshman at Tech.

I told them about the great visit I had had with family in Maryland earlier that week.  Then, I told them about my flight back home.  Apparently, I caught a stomach bug from my aunt.  I was determined to get on my Wednesday afternoon flight back to Lubbock via Austin.  However, I had that old familiar feeling...

Long story short.  I ended up having to race to the tiny airplane bathroom not once, but twice, during the first leg of the trip.  Now I can truthfully say that I have lived one of my "worst nightmares."  Vomitting on an airplane.  While I was retching into the little white airplane "sick bag" in the bathroom, I actually wondered if the activity qualified me for the "mile-high club" whose membership requirement is equally as revolting.

In the retelling, the story was actually humorous.  I was sitting in the middle of the plane but chose to go to the rear bathroom so that I wouldn't have to make eye contact with anyone on my way back to my seat.  When I get sick, my face gets all blotchy and my eyes look like I've been crying.  OK.  I usually have been crying because I HATE to puke.  Then, there was the lady sitting next to me who turned her back to me for most of the flight.  Her shoulders were literally perpendicular to her seat.  I guess my burping, swigging on a Sprite, and declining the tiny bag of peanuts made her suspicious.

As you well know, one good humorous vomit story leads to another.  Lori told about the time when her son, Max, (then a little boy) threw up for the first time.  She was in bed asleep when she heard his little voice calling, "Mom!  Mo-om!"  "Coming!" she said shuffling out of her cozy bed.  "What is it, Max?  What's wrong?" she queried.  Max had never thrown up before, so he didn't quite no how to respond other than to say, "I accidentally spilled on my bed!" 

I countered that tale with one about Jonathan.  Other than baby spit-ups, he didn't really have a good puke until he was almost 3.  I remember the time vividly because we were on vacation in Utah.  We left Moab early that morning stopping by a grocery store for quick breakfast supplies that we could manage in the car.  The boys had little packs of powdered sugar donuts and chocolate milk.  They were happy as clams buckled up in their car seats in the back seat of our minivan as we ventured down a 2 lane highway across a desertous area in the middle of nowhere.  All of a sudden, we heard that unmistakeable sound of vomitting coming from the 3rd seat.  Then, Jonathan's deep toddler voice bellowed, "Mom!  What that come out of my mouth is?!"  He is now 24 years old.  I think that he has only thrown up about 3 times in his whole life.  If only I could be so lucky.

Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  We laughed and laughed.  All the while, Mom's friend, Leonard sat quietly taking it all in with not even the slightest reaction to any of our tales.  Finally, I turned to him and asked, "Well, Leonard, you're pretty quiet!  Do you have any good vomit stories that you'd like to share."  

Pause.  "No, I can't remember the last time I threw up," he replied in a deadpan manner.

Pause.  "I did have diarrhea not too long ago."

Touche, Leonard!  You got the biggest laugh of my 55th Birthday Dinner!  Thanks for the memories!

Try one of these!  I'm sure you'll be just fine.