I was off on my first overseas holiday. I had seen the sights of South Australia, Queensland and more importantly and more excitingly Tasmania, and although the tempting apple isle with its one and only Big W store was calling my name I took the risk and headed off to Thailand for Sun, Temples, Shopping and well more Shopping.
But before the all mighty shopping adventure that I had planned, I first had to survive the 9 hour flight. The first 5 hours were rather good, we were flying Jetstar el cheapo and had managed to book ahead the inflight entertainment package so could watch some movies. I ordered me some food and set in to watch a few movies. It was a novelty for the first few hours.
Now I should put in a disclosure that I get extremely motion sick. When I was little I wasn’t allowed to go on swings because I would end up heaving my guts up and then be out sick for a day or two. Flying … well … that’s just one big fucking swing in the motion sickness world except there is no escape. No falling off.
In my 26 years I had gotten better, I found some tablets that worked and could fly domestically under a doped up bliss randomly drooling without knowing. In my mind, I could fly to Tassie then I could fly to Thailand
5 hours into the trip .. which I should point out were spent surrounded by screaming babies, I started to feel a little off. You see … as this was my first long haul flight, I neglected to realise that I would need to retake my tablets after 4 hours.
It was not pretty, the next 3 hours were spent in a mixture of either vomiting and sleeping the whole time sweating up a storm. The poor passengers, if I wasn’t heaving up my guts then there was a baby screaming.
I somehow survived making it to Thailand
My body went into autopilot while my brain was forcefully trying to get my speech functioning to happen and request someone to kill me, someone to put me out of my misery. But all it could muster was a grunting and groaning sound saying something that resembled the word die. I grab some extra spew bags and stumble my way out of the plane ignoring the glares of my fellow passengers, because not only did I give them a symphony of regurgitation, but I also completely and utterly honked. I smelt so bad that I am sure there were fume lines radiating out of my body like they do in the cartoon for pepe la pew.
I make it off the plane and rejoice that they have travelators and I wont have to walk the whole length of the airport. At each travelator I slump onto the railing pleading that it will somehow snag me and pull me through the edge at the end in a bloody death, but instead I trip and stumble and make my way off clutching my spew bags and line up in the cue for customs.
I sigh a quiet sigh of relief that there is a pole that I can lean myself against as I wait at the cue but then the moment passes as I fill yet another spew bag. Where its all coming from is beyond me, and why there are no bins anywhere in sight is also beyond me. Holding a full bag is dangerous as my hands are all sweaty and my grip isn’t the best and my co-ordination was lost a few hours ago on the plane so I was living in fear that I would ether just drop the bag or tip it all over the front of myself, which well .. would not have matter as mentioned earlier on, I already honked!
I hand over my passport and try to stand straight and look into the camera thingy. Sweat drips of my face and one eye is really struggling to stay open but I somehow manage to look semi human and I am allowed through .. still clutching my damn sick bags. I look ahead and see a bench near the baggage carousels. Excellent, maybe I can lie down on it and slowly die while we wait for our baggage to come in. I stumble my way towards it and I am quickly stopped by a customs lady.
Her – whats in the bag
Me – *one eye closed and hunched over like the hunchback of Notre dame* huh?
Her – whats in the bag, let me see
Me - *realising she means my spew bag* huh?
Her - *reaches for the bag* whats in your bag
Me – Its spew, I was sick *clutches bag tightly and slightly looses my balance*
Her – let me see
I mean seriously … I honked, I could barely function and I wouldn’t be surprised if I even had remnants of spew on my face and in my hair … im clutching a spew bag … don’t need to be Einstein to work out what it is filled with
Me - *passes bag*
Her - *opens bag and discovers its spew and quickly closes it giving me the filthiest of looks before walking off to dump it in the bin*
Im left standing there amused that someone after being told that its spew decided to look for themselves only to then give me the death stare for being right, as if I forced her to look. See look here, here is some bile, here is a carrot chunk, and this bit here .. well im sure that’s some of my stomach lining. Want me to sign the bag for you???
Seriously!
I somehow managed to make it out of the airport alive much to my bitter pleadings for imminent death, and also without further spew checks .. or worse as I feared was coming .. drug checks.
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