sunday night i flew to chicago for work. our flight was due to leave at 7:00/board at 6:40. we arrived at the airport in record time, made it through security, and sat down to grab dinner before our flight. we ordered our food at around 6:00. there wasn't much that looked great on the menu, but I ordered a fajita quesedilla. we figured the restaurant would be fairly quick, they are in an airport, for eff sakes! 10 minutes after ordering my bosses' food arrived, and the waitress informed me that mine was 5th back in the food line. shit. 10 minutes later (and 10 minutes before we needed to leave for our flight) my food arrived. i literally SCARFED it and we RAN for our plane, on a concourse about as far away as it could possibly be from our chosen restaurant.
upon arrival at our gate, we learned that our plane was being delayed due to a mechanical problem. great. my gross quesedilla was a lump of cheese and tortilla in my stomach from our sprint to the gate. and our plane is faulty. wonderful.
our delay ended up being only about a half an hour, and we were allowed to board the plane. i sat in an aisle seat, a younger guy in the middle next to me and an older guy next to the window.
the flight was bumpy, and i was sick to my stomach the entire time. i couldn't even read. i sat back and took deep, even breaths. about an hour and a half into it, we learned that we were flying into a very intense thunderstorm. we had to circle to detroit and back into chicago. this would extend our flight an hour. i thought i would die then and there. i had been hanging in there knowing it was just about over. i had no idea how i would make another hour.
about 40 more minutes of deep breaths and the real scare started. the pilot announced that everyone should make sure their seat-belts were fastened tightly. lightening was lighting up the sky all around our plane. the plan started some pretty rough drops, worse than any roller coaster you could imagine. i didn't think we were going to land.
10 minutes before our arrival, i was scrambling around in the seat pocket, frantically search out an air sickness bag. i clued in my poor seat neighbor and he joined the search. bags were nowhere to be found. the poor young guy started rubbing my back and telling me "it's okay, we're almost there." poor guy. i wanted so badly to hold it in, for him if for nothing else. but alas, it was all too much. i leaned forward and wretched into my hands.
the poor guy next to me kept telling me it was okay. he dug though my purse for me to find tissues and wet wipes. he made me laugh by saying he had two little ones at home and was used to puke. thank God i sat next to such a nice guy. if it was me in his position i probably would have lept out of the seat and gotten about as far away as possible.
funny, after i got done puking and had both hands full. (eeew) the guy across the aisle from me found two bags and set them in front of me. here i am, handless, trying to grab the bag with my mouth...i'm sure i was quite the sight.
the flight home had it's issues as well but i managed to hold in my oookies.
hopefully that was the last (as well as the first) time i will puke on a plane!