Like I said, we had a great, though too short, trip to Louisiana this weekend, but I can't make that drive back without recalling our Worst Trip Ever as a family. It was the fall of 2005, and we were driving back to Dallas from my parents' house in the aftermath of Hurricane Rita. As we got onto the ferry across the Mississippi, the very first leg of the trip, Matthew, who was six then, vomited all over the deck. We had to set him up in his seat with a cooler on his lap, because he kept puking.
Then, about an hour into the trip, Lucas started heaving. An hour or so later, the vicious bug hit Julie. The next big town was Natchitoches, and inasmuch as I was feeling a bit peaked myself, I pulled off to try to get us a hotel room to ride this thing out. Dallas was about five hours away, and I didn't think any of them would be able to make it.
But there was no room at any inn, anywhere. Rita refugees. We pressed on.
We pulled off at a convenience store on the west side of Shreveport so Julie could go in and vomit some more, and try to clean the car out. She took green-at-the-gills Matthew into the bathroom with her, for some exciting family vomiting. And that's when it really hit me hard. I rolled out of the driver's seat while waiting, went down on all fours in the parking lot, and heaved my guts out. Great rolling waves of puke. I didn't care who saw me. I couldn't care. I was way too sick to care. When I finished, I saw Julie and Matthew coming out of the convenience store, and dropping a bag into a trash can. Then she leaned over the trash can and hurled.
Dallas was three and a half hours away.
Somehow, we made it home, but as I was behind the rest of the family on the hurl curve, I had to let Julie drive the last hour. We got pulled over by a state trooper for speeding, about half an hour from home. Julie started weeping. The cop shone his flashlight in on us, and we must have been a pitiful sight, to say nothing of what we must have smelled like. He let us drive on without giving us a ticket.
Once home, we crashed. We were all sick the next day too, but the virus passed. It's as sick as I've ever been -- sicker, even, than the time I had salmonella from undercooked chicken. That drive back has taken on the air of legend in our family. I call it the Upchuck Hejira.
Now, I invite you readers to tell us all about your Worst Trip Ever. Give details. Especially the gross ones.
UPDATE: Julie e-mails with further details from the Upchuck Hejira:
We were traveling with a puppy! With a staph infection! Who refused to tee-tee the whole way home! So when I heaved into that trash can, I had a German Shepherd on a leash watching me! Along with the people stuck at the gas station because there was no more gas.
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About 15 years ago, some friends of ours had their first baby -- a darling little girl. Mom and another mutual friend were on their way to the mall, when the friend picked the child out of the car seat -- probably to soothe the baby's crying.
He was holding the child up in front of his face, and slightly above his head, when he opened his mouth to make baby-talk and goo-goo noises.
You can guess the rest: baby girl turned out to be not so much of a cute and cuddly bundle of joy, as she was a KC-135 tanker of projectile vomit.
Five hours on a 747 on the MSP tarmac in August of 1998 with no aircon, no ignition, no info from the attendants, no food, but they did have bottled water, thank God. Missed my connection at Tokyo Narita and got delayed until the next evening, but the last free Northwest shuttle from the hotel was at 9 AM. Ten hours in the Narita international terminal is a study in purgatory on earth. Clancy
Also, in March of 2002, I made it through security with my shoes and onto the plane, which was the last one cleared to for takeoff before a spring blizzard came through. Just as we pulled back from the jetway, there was a WHUMP from the front of the plane as a luggage trolley hit it at about 15 mph and put a hole in the side. Needless to say, I got delayed until the next morning.
1997, Thanksgiving. On a coach train from Daejon to Kwangju in South Korea. Old lady, no teeth, dried squid, no dental floss, three hours, nuff said.
Karen Brown: I'd swear you and I had the same father.
I was driving back to Dallas from Houston in the middle of the night with my family. My step-father was having a risky cancer surgery and we wanted to be there. About 2 in the morning we stopped at a Jack-in-the-box somewhere and i decided to get some tacos and a jumbo jack. I arrived home and went to sleep. giving the salmonella just enough time to work its magic. about 5am I woke up and started puking. My step-brother who was also staying at the house came to get me because it was time to go to the hospital, I told him, "I am to sick to go" He called me a baby or wimp or possibly something much more derogatory, in the loving way that only a brother can do. He said, "lets stop at walmart and get some pepto" In the walmart I handed my brother the pepto because the urge to throw up had hit me I ran into the parking lot to be nice to old Sam Walton and not throw up all over his story. My brother paid for the medicine and a banana and we got in the car and left. Me running out of the store must have looked suspicious to the minimum wage security guard and he decided to call the police. about a mile down the road on the way to the hospital, we were pulled over at gun point and accused of stealing. I so wish I had puked on the cop that pulled me over.
Ours was similar Rod,
We visited our good freinds who live off the grid right next to Adirondack park. 4 kids having it come out at BOTH ends, and not much electricity to run the washer and drier!
Everyeone wore bibs on the way home.....
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