Hungover on the Highway
Photo credit: Bethany Jessop
Let me begin by stating that if this story occurred with anyone else besides my boyfriend of two and a half years, I’d be absolutely mortified. But even though we are extremely comfortable around each other, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was a tiny bit embarrassed. Okay, I’m trying to be modest. It was a horrendous experience that I may never live down. This is a story of the misfortune that results from eating bad seafood, mixing Caesars, wine, and rum the night before, and getting my usual bout of car sickness.
The night prior was my good friend’s birthday celebration. We went to an upscale restaurant where I made the mistake of ordering everything with a hard shell or tentacles. My diet that night consisted of crab, lobster, scallops, and more lobster. I had one glass of white wine and then opted for a spicy Caesar (which is made with clam juice) with my meal. And while the tobasco and worchestershire, lobster tails, and after-dinner birthday cake all tasted tremendous individually, at some point my stomach decided the mixture of it all was a bad idea.
The night continued with some pre-bar drinking at a friend’s house. There we did the Houdini-like switch from upscale, lobster-eating, wine-drinking maturity to loud music and drinking games. I chose to play flip cup with rum… again, probably not the best idea. After the games, we went to the bar.
The very next day I woke up feeling slightly under the weather. This was strange considering the little amount I had to drink. My boyfriend and I had lunch plans with his parents and sister who was visiting from Australia and we were to be at their house, an hour away, for 1:00. I managed to pull myself out of bed, get showered and leave on time. About ten minutes in to the car ride I started feeling queasy. I decided it was probably best to close my eyes for a bit and try to sleep. We were about thirty minutes away when my stomach somersaulted. “Babe,” I said. “I think we should pull over so I can make myself get sick.”
My boyfriend looked at me nervously. “Okay, there’s a service centre two minutes away. Can you wait?”
My stomach now did a triple axle. “Actually, I think I’m going to get sick on my own. You need to pull over.”
My boyfriend started to speed up so he could get in front of the transport that was between us and the side of the freeway. My mouth started salivating… never a good sign. And then it happened, instantly. There was no controlling it. I threw up, right there, inside his car. I managed to get my hands to my mouth and catch most of the semi-liquid, semi-solid substance but unfortunately the fingers made for a fanning effect that sprayed the vomit in numerous directions. Most of it landed in my sweater that was set on my lap. Some got caught in my scarf, a bit managed to get in my hair, and the rest on the passenger side door. My boyfriend then managed to pull over. “Are you okay?” he asked unsure of whether he should laugh or be angry. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t pull over sooner,” he said as he rubbed my back as I was hurling on the side of the 401. When I got back into the car and we started driving again I looked up and noticed some of the orange juice-like vomit (thanks to the drinking games) on the ceiling. Yup, somehow I managed to get it up there too.
Long story short, we had to pull over on the highway two more times before we made it to his parent’s house. We were late for lunch, I had to pass on eating to lye down instead, and his sister asked in front of his family if I was hung-over. I was more than mortified. Moral: do not eat a large meal of foods you are unfamiliar with, do not play flip cup with hard liquor, and do not drive long distances without a paper bag if you are feeling under the weather.
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