I'm Never Eating Chili Again

I hate being sick. Not fake sick where you stay home from school or work to play video games or watch TV, but really being sick. It sucks. You don't want to do anything, sleeping is a chore, and you're usually bored out of your mind.

Yesterday I must have eaten something pretty bad because I didn't feel too well at all. Nevertheless I went with my friend Parker to pick up something from his brother's house. Turns out he wasn't feeling to well either. It reminded me of a story of something that had happened to us in high school.

(fair warning, this is a vomit story...so stop here if you don't wish to go on)

One of our friends had just received some award for a writing contest. As part of the awards ceremony they had dinner at golden corral...the buffet restaurant. He invited Parker and I to come along, I can't remember why but food is food so of course we went.

They say that pride is the downfall of man. I'm inclined to agree...or at least if it's not his downfall it will make him miserable...for Parker and I had to see who could eat more that that buffet, and my man-pride would not let me lose. Somewhere around the 3rd or 4th plate I started to feel the pressure of a full stomach. Did I stop? Of course not...I would only be finished when Parker was unable to continue. That's how man-pride works. It's a complete "anything you can do I can do better attitude". Comes in handy for sports, not so much in nutrition of digestion. I believe it was the 5th or 6th plate that did it. I had won. I felt alright too. I mean, as well as you can feel after eating probably 2 days worth of food in one sitting.

Slowly I got into my friend's car, his dad drove...so it was my friend that had won the award and his dad in front and Parker and I in the back. We started the long drive home when my stomach let me know that it wasn't doing too good. We pulled to the stoplight and I said the quintessential line, "I think I'm going to throw up."

Nobody believed me.

I tried opening the door as quickly as I could as it all came out. I'd have to say I did pretty darn good under the circumstances, but in all fairness I'd have to say I was 50% accurate. Half going outside the car...the other half inside. Yeah, I know...insanely gross. That's not the reason I'm telling this story either, but rather it was what happened after that made the event so memorable.

Here I am, dangling outside of a car at a stoplight having just puked my guts out after eating 6 full plates of food, and I hear a roar of screams coming from the car next to ours. I slowly lift my head only to find a car full of beautiful girls our age staring in disgust at what had just happened. I didn't know how to react so I did the only thing that seemed normal. I smiled at them. Now I'm sure that had to be extremely attractive, but the looks on their faces was priceless. I bet the only logical explanation as to my behavior was to tell themselves that I was drunk.

Well we drove to a gas station on the corner and cleaned it all up and all was well. I've since wondered if my friends dad will remember me as the kid that threw up in his car. I think I'd remember if one of my son's friends did something like that.