Have you ever puked on an airplane?
I have. Only once. Well. I puked more than once but it was all on the same flight.
I still to this day do not know what upset my poor wittle tummy. Wendy and I had just spent three days in Las Vegas eating and drinking and not sleeping enough. Maybe it was that. Or it could have had something to do with the Bloody Marys we swilled at the airport prior to boarding our flight. I suppose it could have been a bug. Cause was irrelevant. It was the puking that counted.
Thankfully the flight was not crowded. I didn't have to worry about not finding an open bathroom when I needed one. I sat there wretchedly in my seat, moaning softly, rocking back and forth, my arms clutched to my stomach. Wendy periodically patted my head, looking sympathetic. The lady in the row across the aisle kept glancing at me, not so surreptitiously. When the mood struck (and you know what I mean by mood), I raced down the aisle uncontested and closeted myself in one of those tiny little bathrooms.
Last week I was reminded of that experience upon reading that National Airport... oh wait, excuse me, I mean Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport... will be eliminating a rule instituted after 9/11. You may or may not be aware that post-9/11, passengers flying out of or into National Airport were not allowed to leave their seats during the first or last 30 minutes of the flight.
My puking experience was post-9/11. Therefore as we hit that 30 minute boundary, the announcement was made that under no circumstance was anyone to leave their seat until the plane landed.
The airline provides those theretofore useless to me Barf Bags at every seat!
Right then, right when the ray of realization dawned that I was going to have to vomit in public, it suddenly felt as it the plane was completely full. There was a person in every seat and even others standing in the aisles. In my peripheral view was a stewardess, her eyes boring a hole in my head. Where the fuck did all those people come from? They were all staring at me, their eyes bugged. I looked over at Wendy to find her staring at me too. Sweat popped out in beads on my forehead. I did the only thing I could do. I dropped my face into the Barf Bag and heaved.
The thing that bothers me most about that experience is I cannot for the life of me recall what we did with the used Barf Bags. Did I shove them into the pocket on the seat back in front of me? Did I tuck them into my carry on and carry them off? Did Wendy put them in the trash? Did the stewardess take them away? Are they still in the trunk of my car??
Of course they are not still in the trunk of my car.
That's one place I'm sure they did not end up.
We put my parents on an airplane out of National this morning. They are heading for Alaska to take a cruise. I advised them both to steer clear of airport Bloody Marys. They don't taste nearly as good coming up as they do going down.