Tag Archives: puke

Watered Down Memories Light the Corners of My Mind?

Didn't use one of these.

Didn’t use one of these.

I do not suffer from motion sickness.  I can fly in a plane, be the extreme backseat passenger in a car, ride roller coasters, be in a boat in the high seas.  I’m one of the lucky ones.  Except once.  When I was about 7.  Coming back from Germany.

We were heading back to the States after an Army stint in Germany.  I remember 4 things about the plane ride home.  1) Puke; 2) coffee; 3) two floors; and 3) darkness.

I don’t know what made me feel sick,  but I remember begging my dad to take me to the bathroom.  Unfortunately, the bathroom was occupied.  If I recall correctly, I sat back down in my seat or was in the approximate area.  I vomited all over the woman sitting next to me (so much for barf bags, my only opportunity to actually use one). All over her and her floor length fur coat.  That was my first memory of that flight.

The stewardess (I’m not being politically incorrect, this was the ’70’s) cleaned it up with loads and loads of coffee grinds.  I don’t know what happened to good old Pine Sol.  Maybe they ran out.  I’m not sure if the coffee cleaned it, but it did cover up the smell.  Can’t get a good whiff of Maxwell House without thinking of throw-up.  That was memory #2.

I watched Sex and The City Part 2 recently.  The ladies were on a plane with 2 levels.  One level had a bar.  I was jealous.  Then I remembered my flight home from Germany had 2 levels.  Completely wasted on a 7 year old.  I want a do-over.  Memory #3.

I lived in a country for 2 years where it was dark a lot of the time.  And I was afraid of the dark.  When we landed in New York and it was dark, I was confused.  I never thought it was because it was something like 3 in the morning.  Yup, #4.

Isn’t it funny how your brain only remembers certain parts of an event?  And even then, we aren’t sure if those memories are correct.  My memory could be completely different from my brother’s memory of the same event.  I know, this is some deep thinking.  Don’t hurt yourself.  I think I did.

How About a Nice Hawaiian Punch?

hp143

This story is not about me exactly.  But since I told you a little about my brothers earlier this week, I thought you might enjoy this story.  Literally I could write a novel just based on the stunts they pulled.

I’m going to guess that the year was about 1977’ish.  My youngest brother Mark was assigned to bring in 2 cans of Hawaiian Punch for a class party.  You remember the type where you had to puncture two holes with a can opener into each end of the top so the juice would flow easily?  The big 46 ounce cans?  Those.

On the day of the party, Mark forgetfully left them at home.  After school that day, he panicked and asked our brother Ed for help.  There were plenty of ways to remedy the situation.  Flush down the toilet, pour in the sink, dump into the backyard.  My wiseass middle bro told my baby bro that he would have to drink both cans to hide the evidence.  After all, mom spent her hard earned money and time so he could have a nice class party.  He was totally being selfish.  So Mark did as he was told.  He drank both cans.

At the time, the boys shared a room and slept in bunkbeds.  Mark in the top one.  In the middle of the night, Mark woke up with stomach pains.  He put his head over the edge to wake up Ed.  Ed in turn, put his head out to look up at Mark.  Ed got hit with 92 ounces of red regurgitated punch.

Karma is most certainly a bitch.  You just never know when she’s going to come to get you.  In this case the big brother got to take a bath in her.  Lesson learned?  Of course not.  Like a said.  A novel.