Colleen Thomas
Ultrafemme
- Joined
- Feb 11, 2002
- Posts
- 21,545
I should open this with the proper warnings about not reading if you have a weak stomach, frail constitution or cannot handle a pretty sick little story. If however, you are suffering through a bad day, it might be worth your time to look past some of the grossness, and it is quite gross.
I woke up and as usual didn't look forward to the 21 hour drive. Nothing unusual there, the hardest part of any trip has always been the ten steps from the front door to the car. Once on the road I have done fine. Today however, I felt off. Not bad, or sick, or nervous, just...off. I wasn't sick, had no pain or swelling or anything more substanative than a low grade fever and tired, but being easily lead astray, I decided to wait another day. I woke up around 2:00, call dad to let him know I wasn't leaving, only to find out Mom got me an appointment for Thursday with my shrink. Will wonders never cease? It's usually two weeks. Now, I'm in a bind, having frittered away most of my packing day in bed, I do the throw together thing, Jam my truck full and pray I have managed to overpack & get it all rather than leaving stuff I needed at home. Of course I packed all a girl would need for time in Mississippi in summer, like sweats and a jacket while leaving things no one would need like sunscreen & my bathing suit.
I went back to bed, I always make this trip starting at night and have it timed so I miss the worst traffic in each of the major cities I pass through. I woke up with a migraine (joy). Slammed 10 advils, since I can't drive under the influence of my strong meds, bounded out the door and was on my merry way.
NY flies by. Same for Penn., Maryland and West Virginia. I am making stellar time, so good in fact I am a tad worried I will throw my schedule off and hit Birmingham to early. Then comes Virginia. Oh how I hate driving in this state. Everything that ever goes wrong on my trips happens in Virginia. This makes sense, I am in the state for slightly over a third of my journey. 332 miles.
I am still having a headache, but my kidneys are aching too and I decide I am probably dehydrated a little. Coke & Coffee being mainstays on such drives. I pulled off at a rest stop in Virginia and got a 20 oz water from one of the machines. A buck fifty for water? Well, it couldn’t be helped, but rather than buy another I decided to just fill the bottle from one of the several drinking fountains. Curiously, only one is working. The water tastes funny, but I am used to rest stop water tasting bad and think nothing of it. I kill a bottle, then fill up once more & put the bottle in my cooler with my cokes. Have a cig and hit the road again.
Five minutes later I break out in a cold sweat. No big deal, I roll the window up and take a swallow of warm coffee from my travel mug. Have you ever had an epiphany? I suddenly had one, in the clearest, most crystalline way, I knew I was throwing up. I managed to turn my head, but of course I had just rolled the window up, so I threw up all over it, my arm and the door. Now, I’m going 65 miles per hour, next to a big rig, in the dark. I’m trying frantically to get the window down, hold back from hurling again, direct the truck, brake and not swerve under the semi. I do manage to get the window down.
There is an old adage, that you should never spit into the wind. I would like to add a corollary that you should never vomit into a 65 mph head wind. Right back in my face, my hair, my eyes, up my nose and of course coated everything in the truck, including the back windshield. By the third heave I manage to only coat the side of my truck. I get pulled off, roll out into the grass and crawl to the back of the truck, so I am not next to the highway and proceed to see if I can barf up my intestines. I am so committed to this experiment I don’t even hear the highway patrolman pull up or get out of his car and the first I am aware of him is when he asks one of the most inane questions of all time.
“What’s going on here?”
Well, I think it’s pretty obvious what is going on, I’m going for the guniess book record for distance vomiting. So many witty replies, but I manage only “I’m sick”
The next question? I’m sure you have all guessed.
“Have you been drinking?”
“No, I’m just sick,”
“Well, why don’t you come back to the car & take a sobriety test?”
“I’m really sick,”
“Well come on back,”
I manage to stand, and stagger back to his car, he opens the passenger door and none to gently guides me inside, then walks around and administers a breathalyzer. Now I am sure at this point my breath could have knocked a buzzard off a shit wagon at 40 paces, but I know too that machine said nothing.
“I told you, I’m just sick,” I managed. He looked kinda put out, and said.
“Let’s try one more time,”
Epiphany. Once more. All the more wonderful because I am looking into this guys eyes and he has one too, nano seconds before I hurl all over him, his nice breathalyzer machine, his neatly stacked papers and most of the front of his car. He proceeds to brain himself on the roof trying to get out of the way and is curing mightily as I pour myself out of his car and return to my earlier pursuit.
He comes around the car looking pissed as hell, but I can only surmise I looked as wretched as I felt as this point because his face softened and he asked “Do I need to take you to the hospital?”
“I don’t know,” was all I could say. He asked what happened. I told him I just started vomiting, that it tasted like the water from the rest stop.
“What rest stop?” he asked. I just pointed back down the highway.
“Miss, the water at that rest stop is not fit for human consumption. There’s a big sign in front of the tap,”
“I got it from a fountain and I didn’t see any sign,”
“Jesus Christ, are you going to be all right?’
“Yes,” I really feel like I am about to be called home, but talking is too much effort. He jumps in his car, throws on the blues, peels out across the median, and races north, presumably to find out why that fountain is working.
As for me, I begin a 45 minute game called drive & puke. That’s where you drive five minutes, then bail out and throw up till nothing comes. Dry heaves being what they are, I start drinking coke in between sets, as even the acid burn from throwing up coke beats the dry heaves.
After a while it gets better, and I make decent time. As bad as things are, the will of course get worse. Keep in mind it’s been dark, but with the morning comes a glorious sunrise, followed by, heat. Heat, applied to stale vomit, trapped in the cab of a truck is probably one of those odors Satan has reserved for the lower levels of hell.
Back to the game of drive & puke. Except now I can’t tell if I am still sick, or if the odor combined with the motion of the car is just making me carsick.
Ahh, Alabama. Getting close to home. Head is throbbing. But I haven’t thrown up in a while, so I decide to take some pain killer. I pop 2 in my mouth, reach into the cooler, grab a cold bottle & uncap it. (Y’all all see what’s coming here don’t ya?) I take a big slug, swallow my pills and guess what? That didn’t taste like coke. Tasted like…water. I’ll spare you all the gory details, suffice to say it’s a repeat performance.
Birmingham, thank god. I fill up and head home, no more stops now, and that’s good cause I am pretty wrung out. 2 miles before 459 merges back to 20/59 I hit a traffic jam. Not your normal B’ham 5 o’clock traffic jam either. I am talking cross Bronx parking lot kinda traffic jam. In all it will be almost 16 miles of traffic jam as the geniuses at Alabama DOT have I-20 west/I-59 south coming out of Birmingham closed to one lane.
Now, I drive a stick, so my leg is practically falling off before I get out of this. It’s also hotter than Hades out and regrettably, I can’t run the ac without overheating my truck. There ain’t no wind and that smell is beyond over powering as the heat pours into the truck. Suffice to say by the time I get out of it, I am on the side of the road again on all fours throwing up when the Alabama patrolman pulls over behind me. I am beyond even caring or looking up, although he does have nice black boots on.
If the first one asked an inane question, this guy topped it.
“Are you all right?”
Yes, I often stop to admire roadside weeds at ground level. No reply from me is followed by their favorite.
“Have you been drinking?”
In response, I chose the most eloquent route and threw up on his boots. After passing another breathalyzer (administered outside the car, he wasn’t a total idiot) I am allowed to continue.
Home has never looked so good.
A lesson from all of this, one that may touch each of you who have managed to wade through this. None of this was funny as it happened, but as I have typed it I have laughed a time or two, especially remembering officer friendly’s face before I yaked on him. Time and distance will change perspective. That’s true of everything, no matter how bad it seemed at the time.
The moral of this story is, when you are having a bad day, no matter how bad, you can always remember that someone, some where (perhaps a redheaded would be author on the side of the road in Virginia) is having a worse one.
God bless,
-Colly
I woke up and as usual didn't look forward to the 21 hour drive. Nothing unusual there, the hardest part of any trip has always been the ten steps from the front door to the car. Once on the road I have done fine. Today however, I felt off. Not bad, or sick, or nervous, just...off. I wasn't sick, had no pain or swelling or anything more substanative than a low grade fever and tired, but being easily lead astray, I decided to wait another day. I woke up around 2:00, call dad to let him know I wasn't leaving, only to find out Mom got me an appointment for Thursday with my shrink. Will wonders never cease? It's usually two weeks. Now, I'm in a bind, having frittered away most of my packing day in bed, I do the throw together thing, Jam my truck full and pray I have managed to overpack & get it all rather than leaving stuff I needed at home. Of course I packed all a girl would need for time in Mississippi in summer, like sweats and a jacket while leaving things no one would need like sunscreen & my bathing suit.
I went back to bed, I always make this trip starting at night and have it timed so I miss the worst traffic in each of the major cities I pass through. I woke up with a migraine (joy). Slammed 10 advils, since I can't drive under the influence of my strong meds, bounded out the door and was on my merry way.
NY flies by. Same for Penn., Maryland and West Virginia. I am making stellar time, so good in fact I am a tad worried I will throw my schedule off and hit Birmingham to early. Then comes Virginia. Oh how I hate driving in this state. Everything that ever goes wrong on my trips happens in Virginia. This makes sense, I am in the state for slightly over a third of my journey. 332 miles.
I am still having a headache, but my kidneys are aching too and I decide I am probably dehydrated a little. Coke & Coffee being mainstays on such drives. I pulled off at a rest stop in Virginia and got a 20 oz water from one of the machines. A buck fifty for water? Well, it couldn’t be helped, but rather than buy another I decided to just fill the bottle from one of the several drinking fountains. Curiously, only one is working. The water tastes funny, but I am used to rest stop water tasting bad and think nothing of it. I kill a bottle, then fill up once more & put the bottle in my cooler with my cokes. Have a cig and hit the road again.
Five minutes later I break out in a cold sweat. No big deal, I roll the window up and take a swallow of warm coffee from my travel mug. Have you ever had an epiphany? I suddenly had one, in the clearest, most crystalline way, I knew I was throwing up. I managed to turn my head, but of course I had just rolled the window up, so I threw up all over it, my arm and the door. Now, I’m going 65 miles per hour, next to a big rig, in the dark. I’m trying frantically to get the window down, hold back from hurling again, direct the truck, brake and not swerve under the semi. I do manage to get the window down.
There is an old adage, that you should never spit into the wind. I would like to add a corollary that you should never vomit into a 65 mph head wind. Right back in my face, my hair, my eyes, up my nose and of course coated everything in the truck, including the back windshield. By the third heave I manage to only coat the side of my truck. I get pulled off, roll out into the grass and crawl to the back of the truck, so I am not next to the highway and proceed to see if I can barf up my intestines. I am so committed to this experiment I don’t even hear the highway patrolman pull up or get out of his car and the first I am aware of him is when he asks one of the most inane questions of all time.
“What’s going on here?”
Well, I think it’s pretty obvious what is going on, I’m going for the guniess book record for distance vomiting. So many witty replies, but I manage only “I’m sick”
The next question? I’m sure you have all guessed.
“Have you been drinking?”
“No, I’m just sick,”
“Well, why don’t you come back to the car & take a sobriety test?”
“I’m really sick,”
“Well come on back,”
I manage to stand, and stagger back to his car, he opens the passenger door and none to gently guides me inside, then walks around and administers a breathalyzer. Now I am sure at this point my breath could have knocked a buzzard off a shit wagon at 40 paces, but I know too that machine said nothing.
“I told you, I’m just sick,” I managed. He looked kinda put out, and said.
“Let’s try one more time,”
Epiphany. Once more. All the more wonderful because I am looking into this guys eyes and he has one too, nano seconds before I hurl all over him, his nice breathalyzer machine, his neatly stacked papers and most of the front of his car. He proceeds to brain himself on the roof trying to get out of the way and is curing mightily as I pour myself out of his car and return to my earlier pursuit.
He comes around the car looking pissed as hell, but I can only surmise I looked as wretched as I felt as this point because his face softened and he asked “Do I need to take you to the hospital?”
“I don’t know,” was all I could say. He asked what happened. I told him I just started vomiting, that it tasted like the water from the rest stop.
“What rest stop?” he asked. I just pointed back down the highway.
“Miss, the water at that rest stop is not fit for human consumption. There’s a big sign in front of the tap,”
“I got it from a fountain and I didn’t see any sign,”
“Jesus Christ, are you going to be all right?’
“Yes,” I really feel like I am about to be called home, but talking is too much effort. He jumps in his car, throws on the blues, peels out across the median, and races north, presumably to find out why that fountain is working.
As for me, I begin a 45 minute game called drive & puke. That’s where you drive five minutes, then bail out and throw up till nothing comes. Dry heaves being what they are, I start drinking coke in between sets, as even the acid burn from throwing up coke beats the dry heaves.
After a while it gets better, and I make decent time. As bad as things are, the will of course get worse. Keep in mind it’s been dark, but with the morning comes a glorious sunrise, followed by, heat. Heat, applied to stale vomit, trapped in the cab of a truck is probably one of those odors Satan has reserved for the lower levels of hell.
Back to the game of drive & puke. Except now I can’t tell if I am still sick, or if the odor combined with the motion of the car is just making me carsick.
Ahh, Alabama. Getting close to home. Head is throbbing. But I haven’t thrown up in a while, so I decide to take some pain killer. I pop 2 in my mouth, reach into the cooler, grab a cold bottle & uncap it. (Y’all all see what’s coming here don’t ya?) I take a big slug, swallow my pills and guess what? That didn’t taste like coke. Tasted like…water. I’ll spare you all the gory details, suffice to say it’s a repeat performance.
Birmingham, thank god. I fill up and head home, no more stops now, and that’s good cause I am pretty wrung out. 2 miles before 459 merges back to 20/59 I hit a traffic jam. Not your normal B’ham 5 o’clock traffic jam either. I am talking cross Bronx parking lot kinda traffic jam. In all it will be almost 16 miles of traffic jam as the geniuses at Alabama DOT have I-20 west/I-59 south coming out of Birmingham closed to one lane.
Now, I drive a stick, so my leg is practically falling off before I get out of this. It’s also hotter than Hades out and regrettably, I can’t run the ac without overheating my truck. There ain’t no wind and that smell is beyond over powering as the heat pours into the truck. Suffice to say by the time I get out of it, I am on the side of the road again on all fours throwing up when the Alabama patrolman pulls over behind me. I am beyond even caring or looking up, although he does have nice black boots on.
If the first one asked an inane question, this guy topped it.
“Are you all right?”
Yes, I often stop to admire roadside weeds at ground level. No reply from me is followed by their favorite.
“Have you been drinking?”
In response, I chose the most eloquent route and threw up on his boots. After passing another breathalyzer (administered outside the car, he wasn’t a total idiot) I am allowed to continue.
Home has never looked so good.
A lesson from all of this, one that may touch each of you who have managed to wade through this. None of this was funny as it happened, but as I have typed it I have laughed a time or two, especially remembering officer friendly’s face before I yaked on him. Time and distance will change perspective. That’s true of everything, no matter how bad it seemed at the time.
The moral of this story is, when you are having a bad day, no matter how bad, you can always remember that someone, some where (perhaps a redheaded would be author on the side of the road in Virginia) is having a worse one.
God bless,
-Colly
Anyways, hopefully your return trip won't suck as badly. Oh and :HUG:
