Puke breaks the Ice or Bookended by Puke
I left home to travel to Paris Sunday at 5 PM.
The fucking TSA took my good luck charm, a zippo lighter with a shamrock on it like the one in Indiana Jones and the last crusade. I know what you're thinking: I should have known better since you can't fly with lighters anymore. Well, when they made that rule, I actually removed all the mechanics of the lighter, so it wasn't a lighter at all. It was just the metal casing. They wouldn't listen to me though, even though I've flown with it probably 5 times now, and confiscated it.
I was originally seated between one of my colleagues and a Russian mother and her child. When the dad approached me about switching seats, I practically leapt at him. I was now seated next to a young french woman. I fell asleep before takeoff and probably got three hours' sleep on and off.
I woke up in the middle of a tripefest in the form of Elizabethtown. What's with these movies these days and their collective dearth of sympathetic characters?
Anyway, 8 hous on a plane is hell any way you slice it, and I really felt bad for the person seated in front of the frenchwoman. She was kicking the crap out of the seat in front of her. After a while, she started invading my side. I had given up the armrest 'cause I'm a gentleman, but she was bumping anything near her.
So, i was frifting back in-and out of sleep on our landing when I distinctly felt her throw 2 elbows. I opened my eyes, and she was puking. I hit the call button, but the stewardesses were already in their landing chairs, so I tryed to hand her barf bags, and she wouldn't take them. Man, it kept coming. It was her entire contents onto the floor. The lady in front of her sprayed perfume down the wall of the plane.
After it ews over, I handed her all the kleenex I had (3) and a piece of gum. She was all talkative after that. She had braces on her teeth. Puky braces.
So we landed and got to the Sofitel which is nice as hell. In france, they don't believe in shower curtains, so every time I shower, I make Lake Thompson in the bathroom which has a wood floor. I'm not sure what they expect.
We put in partial day since we were all tired and hit the Champs Elysses for a drink and dinner. It started out as paradise having beers and shooting the shit in an outdoor cafe. I slowed when I realized I was drunk, though two of the other guys at the table started calling me a sally.
I don't know what time it was when I puked in the bathroom there. It was early, though, like 6 PM paris time. I came out to tell them I was heading back to the hotel, and they were all ready to go as well.
In an instant, the shit hit the fan. Some large protest formed on the street, and just as quickly, the skies opened up and it began to pour. We tried to walk in the direction of the hotel and quickly got lost. We then got a cab. The guy in the front started drunkenly apologizing to the cabbie for being american as myself and another guy in the back seat (luckily seated at the windows) began puking. The manager was seated between us, and just started laughing. It toook forever to get to the hotel, and I went upstairs and left my clothes in an wet pile only getting up to puke in the night (probably 4 times), the last being at 4:40 AM Paris time. I had the chills all night in my sweltering room.
It was like a twentysomething birthday. No shots at all. Just three huge (50 cL) beers and no food. ...and jet lag.
This AM, I am hung over, but fortunately better for the wear than my two colleagues.
I'm hoping this has nothing to do with the loss of my good luck charm.
The fucking TSA took my good luck charm, a zippo lighter with a shamrock on it like the one in Indiana Jones and the last crusade. I know what you're thinking: I should have known better since you can't fly with lighters anymore. Well, when they made that rule, I actually removed all the mechanics of the lighter, so it wasn't a lighter at all. It was just the metal casing. They wouldn't listen to me though, even though I've flown with it probably 5 times now, and confiscated it.
I was originally seated between one of my colleagues and a Russian mother and her child. When the dad approached me about switching seats, I practically leapt at him. I was now seated next to a young french woman. I fell asleep before takeoff and probably got three hours' sleep on and off.
I woke up in the middle of a tripefest in the form of Elizabethtown. What's with these movies these days and their collective dearth of sympathetic characters?
Anyway, 8 hous on a plane is hell any way you slice it, and I really felt bad for the person seated in front of the frenchwoman. She was kicking the crap out of the seat in front of her. After a while, she started invading my side. I had given up the armrest 'cause I'm a gentleman, but she was bumping anything near her.
So, i was frifting back in-and out of sleep on our landing when I distinctly felt her throw 2 elbows. I opened my eyes, and she was puking. I hit the call button, but the stewardesses were already in their landing chairs, so I tryed to hand her barf bags, and she wouldn't take them. Man, it kept coming. It was her entire contents onto the floor. The lady in front of her sprayed perfume down the wall of the plane.
After it ews over, I handed her all the kleenex I had (3) and a piece of gum. She was all talkative after that. She had braces on her teeth. Puky braces.
So we landed and got to the Sofitel which is nice as hell. In france, they don't believe in shower curtains, so every time I shower, I make Lake Thompson in the bathroom which has a wood floor. I'm not sure what they expect.
We put in partial day since we were all tired and hit the Champs Elysses for a drink and dinner. It started out as paradise having beers and shooting the shit in an outdoor cafe. I slowed when I realized I was drunk, though two of the other guys at the table started calling me a sally.
I don't know what time it was when I puked in the bathroom there. It was early, though, like 6 PM paris time. I came out to tell them I was heading back to the hotel, and they were all ready to go as well.
In an instant, the shit hit the fan. Some large protest formed on the street, and just as quickly, the skies opened up and it began to pour. We tried to walk in the direction of the hotel and quickly got lost. We then got a cab. The guy in the front started drunkenly apologizing to the cabbie for being american as myself and another guy in the back seat (luckily seated at the windows) began puking. The manager was seated between us, and just started laughing. It toook forever to get to the hotel, and I went upstairs and left my clothes in an wet pile only getting up to puke in the night (probably 4 times), the last being at 4:40 AM Paris time. I had the chills all night in my sweltering room.
It was like a twentysomething birthday. No shots at all. Just three huge (50 cL) beers and no food. ...and jet lag.
This AM, I am hung over, but fortunately better for the wear than my two colleagues.
I'm hoping this has nothing to do with the loss of my good luck charm.
posted by Zach at 5:52 AM
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