This is why my husband should never cook. Or why I'm always wearing an infinity scarf.

In my experience, you're either a pooper or a puker.

Now I can count the number of times I've vomited on one hand (not in one hand, though I've done that too!), so that makes me... yeah, that.

I'll take being a pooper any day of the year. But this means that on the off chance that I have to puke, it is bad. Very very bad.

Thus was the case last week as I headed out to a much anticipated week of work in New York.

Okay so it was really Jersey City but that just doesn't sound as cool.

I'd done a valiant job of fending off the cold from hell that all my kids were passing around and was looking forward to a few grueling 12-hour work days followed by quiet, lonely nights in a hotel room with nothing but room service and a television that does not report the names of movies you have ordered on your bill.

And no, I'm not talking about porn. I'm talking about the ridiculous amount of Ryan Gosling movies I watched in three days. That's more embarrassing than MILF Trannies XXX.

In short, I had a veritable 3 day vacation coming my way and I was ready.

Except that I got to the airport and started feeling ill. That kind of ill. The ill that is not calmed by playing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" 400 times on repeat, drinking a glass of wine chased by Ginger Ale, or praying for forgiveness to your dead sister.

That's because I was having an anxiety attack. Does an anxiety attack feel like you're going to die because I think death would have been slightly better than sitting in a first class seat completely unable to move with the only thing making you feel better is bawling your eyes out except you have to be on camera the next day so you can't bawl your eyes out. But if you don't, you will die.

Insert inner dialogue here about how well make-up can fix puffy eyes and please forgive me for cheating on my 5th grade science test because I am a very bad person.

As we were getting ready to land I had the feeling, the dreaded awful feeling when you're not sure if you should make a break for the bathroom and get yelled at by the flight attendant or grab the barf bag and make it completely obvious that I AM ABOUT TO THROW UP EVERYONE LOOK HERE!

I decided neither sounded appealing so I just puked in my hand. But since I don't have the hand the size of a bucket, it hit my lap, my jacket, and my infinity scarf.

Not surprisingly, I felt instantly better, well, for a moment anyway, until I realized that I had to somehow get off the plane and to my hotel in my vomitous clothes.

I made a break for the bathroom the second the plane landed (thanks to a strategically placed airline blanket), ditched my beloved scarf and shirt, cleaned off my pants, and waited until all the people who might have seen me vomit were off the plane before I peeked out.

I also reminded myself that I will never see them again unless they have a blog at which point they will have a good story about the weird chick sitting next to them who couldn't stop crying until she puked on herself.

My celebration of sneaking off the plane looking like I had eaten dinner off my lap and only mildly smelling like my own vomit was shortlived when I realized that I'd have to fly home without access to any drugs that I apparently needed for my newly minted fear of flying.

That's when my phone jingled and I got the text from my husband:

I think this is going to be a rough night. Feels like food poisoning. Im guessing my chicken should have cooked longer.

So apparently I just have food poisoning induced anxiety. And a husband who should never be allowed to cook chicken ever again.

Comments

[Team Suzanne]

Flying is scary. And so is meat.

You had a really bad day. Epic-ly bad.

[Mitch B]

I get so scared that I am going to undercook food that I will at times OVERcook it.

[Amanda]

This post should have had a warning. Burp.

[Sue]

This sounds like one of those "male-isms" that happens when they don't want or like to do something in the home. I.e. new red t-shirt washed with a load of whites....guess who does ALL the laundry in my house.

[Marta]

oh my goodness that sounds beyond mortifying.

However I cracked up at, "... have a blog at which point they will have a good story about the weird chick sitting next to them who couldn't stop crying until she puked on herself."

So I apologize for laughing at your misery. =)

[pgoodness]

OH. NO. Yes, never let him cook chicken again.

[Sara]

Oh no!!! So sorry. At least, you should not eat anything he cooks before leaving on a trip. Hope it was short lived and you still got to enjoy your work and time alone!

[Heather]

I get anxious when I need to puke too, because I really really hate to do it. It's my most worst thought ever. So sorry you were sick while trapped on a plane. Hope you feel better soon.

[alimartell]

oh. my. heavens.
I am soo so so sorry. That is THE WORST.

[Liz]

And this is why I hate cooking my own chicken.

[Melissa]

I did that with my last pregnancy. While landing. And holding my sleeping 6 month old on my chest. Couldn't reach the barf bag in time, puked all over myself and my baby. My husband was across the aisle from me and as I tried to tell him I was about to puke so he could get me something, anything to catch it, it happened. Loudly. Right when everyone on the plane is quiet because we are landing. Thank God we carried on. My husband grabbed my carryon as soon as we pulled up to our gate, grabbed puked on baby and changed him while I cried, humiliated in our seat. Once baby was good to go, I had to change into my clothes and find a place to put pukey shirt. I think I threw it away. It was one of the worst things that ever happened to me.

[Dawn @ thedalaimama]

Airplane puke it the worst. I have never done it--but my son did when he was just about 2. He complained that his stomach hurt and I told him he was okay. Then he looked at me. Said he wasn't. And puked down the front of me. Thank goodness we were approaching our destination--but I was covered--how no one else noticed was beyond me--it wasn't until we were getting off that people started to notice. It is one of my sons favorite stories-as it is the only time he has really even thrown up.

[Kat]

He owes you a new infinity scarf. And maybe he should stick to baking.

[vicky]

Oh my God! Seriously?! This just happened to us! Stupid chickens. It's all their fault. I was the bad cook in our house.
I'm still blaming it on my husband though because he likes his chicken so "tender" I can never tell if it is done or not.

[Beck]

Curiously placed airline ad underneath! Heh.

[The Mommy Therapy]

I feel ill just thinking about undercooked chicken.

There is nothing worse tham being trapped on an airplane while feeling sick. Horrible.

Glad you made it out OK and definitely glad you aren't afraid of flying!