Head spin and stomach flips
2019-06-05 Comments
I have already written in a previous F! moment "Perils of sailing" about suffering from travel sickness. My earliest recollection of hurling was on a school trip. I was on a coach and when I told the teachers I was going to be sick they rushed around for carrier bags. I remember the first one leaked when I puked into it, so they quickly pulled the coach over for me to finish on the side of the road. My second bag was doubled up and I managed to fill that one, leak free.
Another time I remember - also when I was a kid, was in a black cab with my parents going home from the West End to North London. It wasn't that far to Hornsey, but the smell of the cab and the driver being rather heavy footed on the break didn't help at all. Just a few minutes before we got home I had to throw up in a shopping bag my mum carried around, just in case.
From my adult memories, apart from my upchuck moments from the ferry to France, was of my worst of the worst, absolutely horrendous session on a flight with a certain airline (which I won't name). It was a short haul flight, about 4 hours. These were the longest 4 hours of my life. We had done a small trip with my dad, sister and cousin. It was a pleasant trip and we had a nice time. On the return journey, we got seated so that we were in the same row. We were in the middle of the plane at the back, in the back row in fact. My cousin on the aisle, then my dad, my sister and then me on the other aisle seat.
The flight started OK, but about 15 minutes into the flight we started to experience turbulence. It carried on throughout the flight until maybe about 10 or 20 minutes before we were due to land. This wasn't the average type of turbulance either, the vibrational ones I could tolerate. A little bump here or there would be OK, but what we experienced was like a horrible fairground ride yanking us in all directions. Throughout this time my head was swimming and so was my stomach, so it came to no one's surprise that I was sick. The throwing up was relentless and I could feel certain isolated muscles around my stomach come alive which were used to push things out. Everytime came with the familiar watery saliva released from under my tongue, then followed by my stomach contents.
My sister is way better than me with travelling, but the effects of the bucking bronco plane were getting to her too. In the middle of a wretching moment, I looked up to see a hand with a sick bag come past me to my sister. She took it with her head hovering over the open bag then splurged out her guts. A few seconds later, that set me off again. We must have looked like prairie dogs with our heads bobbing up and down. I think we synchornised at one point. My dad and cousin were absolutely fine. I think my first sick bag was 5 minutes into the turbulence. I filled that one very quickly, and then I used my dad's one. In the meantime, I had to call the flight attendant to take the first one. He was very gracious about it and whipped it away.
The second one was quite bad and and it spilled a little over the side. Again, I had to ask for the flight attendant to take it away. When my sister was sick she called on a different flight attendant to take her full bag away. She took my cousin's bag in case there was more to come and I had to call someone to restock me. I think they brought me two, to save time.
Just as things weren't bad enough they started to serve lunch. The aroma of food was making my belly rumble, but there was no way in hell I could eat. Then another wave of sickness washed over me and I promptly filled bag number 3. At this point I was sipping water and getting sympathetic looks from the flight attendants. Word got round quick! So when the food cart came round to my sister and me, we declined. Opting only for more water.
My dad had his meal seeming oblivious that his daughters were throwing their guts up. My cousin was chomping down like she'd not eaten for days, us puking did not dull her appetite at all, it seemed surreal. As the plane bounced up and down she gobbled up her food without fail whilst others weren't able to put the spoon or fork into their mouths. Fortunately for them, my sister and I didn't feel like puking at that moment.
After the trays were taken back I was feeling nauseous again, then we hit a bad patch. The seat belt signs weren't switched off from before, but the captain made the announcement for everyone to stay in their seats. So after a bit more jolting, it was time for me to hurl. Since no more food was left in my stomach, I was puking up some froth. It was weird but yet it came. Yep, you guessed it.....I called the flight attendant and she took it away.
There was no respite for me and I had to be sick again. Same thing, some more froth came out. Now what was that, bag number 4? Yes, I believe it was. My sister on the other hand, although was dizzy did not need to retch anymore. At this point, I felt so sorry for the flight attendants having to take away all my sick bags.
By the time number 5 was in place, I had nothing to give. I was dry heaving and it was very unpleasant. I was so tired from it. I kept checking the flight details on the seat screen to see how long we had left. It was saying 25 minutes until destination. Good God!
Somehow, we made it and the turbulence had subsided before we landed. My cousin overheard a couple of the flight attendants say it was one of the worst flights for turbulence they had experienced. My sister got away with just one bag, yay! But I set a record for myself, boo! With this achievement I bet I could join the "mile-hurl" club. I wobbled off the plane and thanked the flight attendants. Then I overheard snippets of conversations from the other passengers and there were many, many people on that flight who filled bags. So it wasn't only me, then.