My worst public puking story is coming back from a party where I had not really been drinking (half a bottle of wine over 7 hours will not a drunk PP make). I had been feeling sort of ‘off’ since supper. At 2am, my husband pulls into our driveway with three friends who were sleeping at our place and me. I lean out the door and lose my supper. The bad part? Supper had been Korean BBQ. There was Kimchi that was dyed flouresent pink. Such was the colour of my offal.
My husband on the other hand managed to make the record books one new year’s eve. At about 1 am, he decided to finish the rest of the champagne (which was almost full) in one go. He managed to throw up in every plumbing fixture in our house.
When I worked in Philly, sometimes I had to go to training sessions at my company’s home office in Landover, MD. They would feed us lunch at these sessions and one time we had this tomato-shrimp stuff over rice; it was tasty and I had two servings. The afternoon went OK, but when we were ready to leave I had a headache. I though I was lucky since I rode down with a co-woker and I could nap on the way home.
Until we hit rush hour traffic on I95 in downtown Baltimore that is. All of a sudden, I sat upright and said that we had to stop RIGHT NOW! Too late, gakked up my lunch all over my self. We pulled over and I just pulled off my shirt and left it on the side of the hiway amid all the horn honking.
Luckily one of our vendors had given out t-shirts so I had a shirt to wear home, but I was so embaressed that I had vomited in my friend’s car. He was non-plussed, though since he had three kids under the age of 10 and was used to people puking in his car.
A few years ago I went out for sushi for a friend’s birthday in Hollywood. Almost immediately after we had finished our dinner and were strolling along the boulevard, I began to feel sick. I told my friends to go ahead while I dashed inside the Arclight Theater to puke in the bathroom there. After ten minutes of puking, I went back outside to tell my friends to just leave without me. I didn’t want to ruin the birthday celebration and I would just call a cab.
So I went back inside the Arclight’s restroom to puke again, then I came back out to the lobby and asked the customer service desk to call me a cab. As they were doing so, yep, overhwhelming need to puke again and no time to run to the restroom, so I leaned over the trash can there and horrified all the employees and patrons in the lobby of the theater.
Years back when my daughter was about 2 or 3 I had to bring her to work with me one day. At the time I drove a two seat roadster and she was a little too small to see over the door and out the window. It was stop and go on the way in and I wasn’t aware of it but she had become carsick. So we arrive, I hoist her up on my shoulder and carry her in. Right as we enter the front doors and completely unannounced she just yakks all over the carpet. I get to my office, call maintenance and hope nobody is too inconvenienced.
I’d forgotton all about until a couple of hours later. I’m riding in an elevator and just heard maybe ten seconds of the two women’s conversation, just the part where one said to the other “Marge, I couldn’t believe it, I mean I walk in and right at the entrance, there’s just a great big pile of it!”
Not me but I was witness. I was living in London and on my way home from work on a double-decker bus. Sitting in front of me on the upper level were two French girls, one of whom was obviously experiencing motion sickness. They decided to get off at the next stop (which was mine) and made their way to the stairs, with me following. The bus was very crowded so they only got about halfway down and had to wait for the bus to stop and people to get off. Before the bus got to the stop, the ill girl projectile vomited all over a well-dressed, middle-aged woman standing on the lower level. In her hair, down her back virtually covering her. It was then that I witnessed the legendary British stiff upper lip. The bus driver stopped the bus, came back to the stairs and was fussing over the puked upon woman. He offered to call a taxi to take her directly home but she, dripping in puke, her hair matted with it, responded in a very posh British accent, “Don’t be silly. It’s just a bit of vomit.” I was in awe.
I’d forgotten about this, but thread reminded me (thanks a lot). My brother and I had season tickets to Busch Gardens Virginia this past summer. My stomach is usually good with anything an amusement park can throw at me, but this time it met its match. Busch Gardens has a ride called Da Vinci’s Cradle. It is a rectangular platform with about 6 rows of seats on it and two axles. When the ride starts, the platform swings upward in a pendulum motion, eventually going over the top of its supports, but remaining upright and level the entire time. The problem was the restraints. The way the ride was designed, the lap bar that came down across each row had a little bit of bounce to it and it spent the whole ride bouncing against my stomach, which felt like getting punched in the gut. Getting off the ride, my brother and I went and bought lunch. No sooner had we paid when I feel Da Vinci’s Cradle catching up with me. I left my brother with the tray and bolted for the nearest trash can and just barely made it. (The folks in line for their food must have loved me.) The nausea passed quickly and I was back to riding roller coasters within an hour or two, but I didn’t go near that accursed Cradle for the rest of the summer.
The non-public coda to my Brazilian migraine experience…
…As soon as we arrived at my wife’s uncle’s house I stumbled upstairs and fell in bed. I immediately curled into a ball and moaned for an hour or two.
At some point during my agony, my wife told me that her uncle had something for me, so I slowly made my way downstairs and down the long hall to the kitchen. I watched as he fussed with some weird leafy plant he had just fetched from the back yard. He crushed the leaves in his hands and stuffed the whole lot into a blender, with a cup of water.
He blended up the plant and water until it was rendered into a dark algae-green liquid, which he held out to me. Toma de uma vez, assim… “Chug it, like this…” he motioned. I downed the contents of the cup in a single extremely bitter swallow.
It felt strange. My head was still in screaming pain, so I thanked him and slowly shuffled back down that long hall. Half way down the hall I considered that something was definitely not right, and I quickened my pace.
By the end of the hall, I regretted having left the kitchen, where there was a perfectly good adjoining bathroom, and I started moving faster still.
I bounded up the stairs two at a time, head in pain, gut sending horrible alarm signals blaring. I ran the last ten yards at a flat-out sprint, ripped open the upstairs bathroom door and threw myself inside just as the jet of vomit shot out of my mouth, mercifully directly into the toilet.
And then I lay down. From drinking the poison until puking had taken about twenty seconds.
Five minutes later, all signs of the migraine had disappeared completely. I stood up and went downstairs to chat with the family and enjoy the evening.
I don’t know what that plant was, but it sure did the trick!
This is a semi-public puking story, but still kind of funny.
I had caught some sort of horrible stomach virus that made me extremely nauseous every time I tried to get vertical. So I would puke into the toilet, but every time I thought I felt a little bit better and would try to stand up, the puking would start again. Finally I decided “fuck it” and staggered to my bed, puking as I went.
The next morning, certain I was dying and in need of a trip to the hospital, I called my mother to come get me. However, she had lost her copy of the key to my apartment, so I had to get out of bed to let her in. I staggered over to the door to unlock it and then immediately headed for the toilet to puke. Coincidentally, my cat had just decided it was an excellent time for him to start puking too.
So my mother entered upon the scene of me puking, the cat puking, and several random piles of puke scattered around the apartment for her to clean up. Thanks, Mama!
Playing Edward 40 hands at an outdoor party in the midwest one summer, I suddenly realized all was not right when I got about 2/3 of the way done with my bottles. I told everyone I had to go take a piss (I’m not sure how anyone believed I was going to do this, since I had two glass bottles duct-taped to hands). I went back around the side of the house, quietly puked up a large amount of malt liquor, then went back to the party and resumed drinking.
I was also at a bachelor party several months ago. Festivities were still young, and no one had consumed more than about 4 or 5 beers. I took it upon myself to fix myself a boilermaker by pouring some warm whiskey into my now lukewarm half-finished beer. This was not a wise choice.
Thirty seconds later, I was leaning over the porch railing and puking all over the flower bed of the house we rented. No one in the group of ten or so guys within 50 feet of me so much as remarked on this; it was almost like it never happened at all. No harm, no foul though, and I continued to drink long into the night for many hours afterward without incident.
The day after what my friends and I refer to as Tequila Night back on college (you all know where this is going, right?) I was so sick and hungover I couldn’t keep anything down the next day until dinnertime, when I started feeling better. My friend told me that Jell-O is easy on the stomach, so I nibbled some red Jell-O.
Red.
Trudging off from the dining hall back to our dorms, I suddenly leaned over and heaved a massive red waterfall into some nearby bushes. Right when the doors to the gym had opened and a flood of parents came out, just in time to see me retching what I’m sure looked like blood.
As a kid, my family vacationed in a town that had a summer fair. They had a BBQ chix dinner with all the fixins. ANyway, I was getting on the Scrambler, and saw the waterhose they had (you see whre this is headed). I said to my brother,"that’s to put out fires right? He’s like, “noo,” Of course, this year I had just ate the aforementioned meal. Predictably, I spewed, exclaiming,“Hose me down!”
Many years ago, I had a migraine headache at work. At lunchtime I got in my
car to drive to a nearby cafe. I was half way there when I started to feel
like I was going to vomit so I quickly pulled off the road and into a small parking lot.
As I entered the parking lot I noticed a man standing next to his car looking
at a road map. I stopped on the other side of the lot and opened the door
so I could lean out and hit any part of my car. The man standing next to his car
looked up from his map and started walking in my direction. I could tell by his expression
that he was thinking “Maybe that guy who just drove in can give me some directions.”
I started thinking “NO! NOT NOW!” and considered driving off but it was too
late. He got within about 20 feet (6 meters) of my car and was saying
“Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to Whatchamacallit Road?” when I couldn’t
hold back anymore and puked on the pavement right in front of him.
At that moment I didn’t care about whether or not I knew where Whatchamacallit
Road was. I quickly said “no” to try to make him go away. He asked if I was OK
and I explained that just I had a migraine. He left with a somewhat shocked look
on his face. I puked up a bit more, rested a bit and continued to the cafe to purchase
my lunch which I ate later in the day when I felt better.
Out drinking on lower Greenville one night we have to stop for traffic and see this girl leaning over by a building hurling her guts out.
My buddy being the class act he is starts asking her if she would like to go out sometime.
Without looking up or stopping her stomach evacuation she gives him the finger.
can you not use God and Jesus’ perfect Names in vain. I would have been praying to them, and not going to those clubs. God and Jesus are first, keep Them that way forever. before it’s too late. it will be soon.
keep God and Jesus first, all, forever. They are anyways. don’t drink, don’t do drugs.
“Don’t be drunk with wine, because that will ruin your life. Instead, be filled with the Holy Spirit.” Ephesians 5:18
“I meant that you are not to associate with anyone who claims to be a believer yet indulges in sexual sin, or is greedy, or worships idols, or is abusive, or is a drunkard, or cheats people. Don’t even eat with such people.” 1 Corinthians 5:11