San Diego Day 1 – Tuesday, February 16th, 2010
Personal stuff first. Skip to the next header if you want anything interesting. And by interesting, I mean gross.
This semester has probably been one of the most stressful at Carleton so far. Which makes sense – last year of journalism, but still two more years to go (i.e. no end in sight), my parents aren’t doing well (long story, not for internet consumption), my schedule sucks, my scholarship runs out this year so I’m working more than usual, and it just goes on and on and on. So I was really looking forward to this reading week – Tuesday to Tuesday, no touring or history lessons or museum visits, just beaches and writing conferences, sun and science, bikes, friends, fun, and pretty sun dresses, ample time for list-making, and finally, a bit of a break. Suffice it to say, I was really looking forward to this week.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
Part 2: When the going gets tough, the tough get nauseous.
My plane to San Diego was scheduled to leave at 8:40am, and would arrive, after a transfer in Denver, at about 1 SD time. I’m a bit of a nervous flier, so I snacked until the wee hours, watched TV, and intended to be fully exhausted by the time the plane took off so I wouldn’t have to be conscious for the flight.
At about 3, I developed a strange lump in my throat. Like a pill hadn’t gone down properly, or a burp got stuck. Must be nerves, I thought. By the time I arrived at the airport, I was feeling a bit queasy. The roundabout in the parking lot probably made me a bit car sick. It’ll be fine.
In line for check in, I got the hiccups, but felt fine otherwise. Just annoyed.
And 5 minutes later, I felt so hot that I was thisclose to stripping right there in the airport. Instead I just took off my sweater and sat down.
And then I thew up.
I front of the entire freaking airport.
Goodbye Blue Sky
After recovering enough that I felt like I actually could worry about how mortifying this was, my mom and brother, who had gone for drinks (to quell the hiccups – which were now gone, by the way) returned. Mortifying, also disgusting, and very, very ill timed.
So at this point I figured it was nerves and car sickness, whatever, but a couple minutes later, the room was boiling again, and up came more of breakfast. It was at this point that the airport people (I don’t know who they were, the people who help you in line, not security or anything) decided that there was no way I was flying today. There was also no way I was getting back in that car, back up that car park from hell, so I made m and b wait for 2 hours while I hovered over the bathroom and decided I couldn’t stomach toast.
Anyway, so us armchair physicians have decided that it’s probably food poisoning, and regardless, I am never eating Schneider’s Chicken Pot Pie again EVER. Went home, slept for about 8 hours, moped, had an uneventful dinner (no regurgitating!), and didn’t unpack a thing.
No San Diego for me. At least not today.
I’ll try again tomorrow; same time, same place. Otherwise I’m giving up and spending my break in Ottawa, continuing my transformation from human to mole person who has never seen the sun.