First of all, before I get into the headlining feature, I am already so stressed. When you walk into a class and a teacher says that it is highly unlikely that you will never get higher than 75% on a test, you know you are in for a real treat. I am not saying that I think that an A should be easy to obtain; on the contrary. I think that at least 5-10% of students should be able to obtain a good solid A. After, of course, those students have worked their full tails off.
Ok, now for the head liner. I know I made a post about this yesterday, but I think that it needed to be expanded upon. If you are a normal human being, you will know that traveling while being sick is one of the most traumatic and embarrassing experiences that one could have.
One of my friends reminded me of this earlier today.
When I was the ripe old age of 16, I was a state officer for a student-lead organization called FCCLA. I was attending a leadership conference with my fellow state officers in Dallas, Texas. This was amazing unto my little sheltered mind (wait.... it is still little and sheltered...). While in Dallas, we ate at an "authentic" mexican restaurant. Let's be real for a second; it was not authentic.
The morning after the restaurant, we were to fly home. I was emotionally and physically drained by the happenings of that trip, and was just not doing so well. While waiting in the terminal, I suddenly felt cold and clammy, and realized that I was about to toss my cookies. I made a mad dash for the bathroom, and en route my advisor caught a glimpse of me. Her face looked shocked, and I knew it was bad.
My advisor is, hands down, the most different/amazing/hilarious person I have ever met. She followed my drunken-legged self to the bathroom and held my hair back while I puked my guts out. After a few minutes the the ol' water closet, I felt much better and my advisor said that I didn't look like a walking dead person.
We then proceeded to leave the bathroom and board the plane. While on the plane, I felt fine! I noted the air sickness bag in front of my face, however.
I made it through the whole flight without throwing up on everyone within five rows of me which, I was concinced, was a modern day miracle.
While we were landing, it hit. It hit in full force, my friends. I was sitting by the window, so I casually grabbed the barf bag and did my thing. While still in the process of doing my thing, other passengers were unloading. I was sitting next to my advisor, and she was not aware of the fact that I was throwing up so much that I was convinced that the lining of my stomach was in that little bag. A passenger who was getting their luggage down basically yelled, "ARE YOU OK?!". Then half of the plane, along with my advisor, looked at me. So much for being discrete. Candace, the advisor, started comforting me and playing the mom role and what not.
After I threw up my esophagus and, I carried my full little paper sack off of the plane, and threw it away in the terminal.
I didn't really have a problem with anyone seeing me; I knew I would never see them again. And all of my co-state officers were some of my closest friends, and I didn't care that they saw me blowing chunks.
That experience eventually blew over.
False.
At the state convention, where the sate officers conducted the meeting with 1,000 people in attendance, Candace pulled a quick one. It was our last meeting as officers, and she was saying a little something about each of us. She spoke of how one person was the hardest worker she has ever met, and how another had become an excellent public speaker. When she got to McCall, she shared the story of how I threw up on the airplane. I hope that you haven't forgotten that there were 1,000 people in attendance of this meeting.
She was telling everyone how graceful and lady-like I was while throwing up, and how my discretion in taking care of the problem illustrated how my personality was. I know that her real reason in telling the barfola story was so that she could see my face turn as red as the dress that I was wearing, and it did!
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