But I Have Pictures Left!

When I was a Junior in High School, I went to a dance with my then-boyfriend, and my brother went with one of my friends. The dance was fine, I don't remember much of it.

Anyway, I wasn't feeling very well the day before the dance, and when the day of the dance came, I had been battling diarrhea the whole day. But, come hell or high water, we were going to this dance.

The next day, we all went out to breakfast. We sat down at our favorite restaurant, and I ordered a coke and the fruit plate. I tried to eat, but couldn't. Then I went to the bathroom.

(Warning: This gets pretty graphic)

So, I sit down on the toilet, go another round with the great boxer diarrhea, and halfway through, I need to vomit. AND IT IS AN IMMEDIATE NEED. But, I cannot stop diarrhea-ing long enough to turn around to puke, so I lean forward, and puke in the small garbage can that's attached to the back of door and puke in that.

Then I realize that the garbage can is welded to the door, and that whomever cleans this bathroom is now going to have to stick their hand into a very small space that is now filled with vomit to clean it out. And I feel really, really badly about it. So, I write 'sorry' on a five dollar bill, and gently place it on top of the vomit.

See, this is where things get hazy. I was pretty dehydrated, and very ill, and obviously not thinking clearly ("here cleaning lady, have a puke-soaked five dollar bill as a TIP") so I go back to sit down at the table, and next to my table are my grandparents. My brother looks FREAKED OUT, and all I can think is "Dear Lord, just get me through this without anything coming spraying out of me. Please?" so I sit down, and I try to eat more fruit, and drink my Coke. My grandmother knows something is wrong, but can't tell what. And right about here is where I stop remembering things. My fever got too high.

Luckily, though, I took pictures to memorialize these precious moments.

Apparently, I decided I was DONE DONE DONE, and got up and walked outside. Like, fuck paying, let's go home. My grandfather ended up paying for our meal.

Now, the resturaunt we were eating at was an octagon building with large windows on each side, and you could clearly see the customers eating from the outside. I walk outside, climb into their flower box next to the largest window...

And projectile vomited onto the window. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, I start to walk through the flower box and puke on the OTHER windows too.

People who are just on the other side of the glass are HORRIFIED. My brother sees this and RUNS FULL SPEED outside to get me in the car before they call the cops on me.

I fight him tooth and nail, because (and this should speak volumes to how sick I was) I had pictures left on my camera, and by gosh, I was going to preserve this moment in photo form!

And I break away from him, and start taking pictures of my puke-covered windows. And the VERY ANGRY people inside. And then the waitress with the broom who started chasing me, and the backseat of my brother's car as we peeled out and drove away, then the puke I left for him in the back of the car as a present.

All around, it was a great night. The moral of the story - if I am sick, I need to STAY HOME. And I definitely need to leave my camera home.