Something besides politics put people in the Washington metro area on the verge of throwing up on Friday.
A powerful storm moving along the East Coast caused winds so strong that they made people sick.
One plane landing at Dulles International Airport outside Washington during the heavy winds reported that nearly everyone on the flight had lost their lunch or whatever else they were eating.
Up to this point in life my vision of Hell has been being trapped in a room full of middle school girls singing pop songs off key. Apparently, I hadn’t thought of being on a plane full of vomit. That is the winner by a land slide.
If I was on that plane I would most likely cry. My knee jerk reaction to people puking is the get the hell out of dodge. I consider myself to be a good friend. I’ll stand with my squad through anything. But if they start up-chucking I’ll disappear in a flash.
On a plane I’m trapped. No where to go.
All it takes is one asshole to let the vomit slip through his lips and it’s on like a pot of neck bones. It’s one big puke party at thirty thousand feet.
Two things happen when I puke. One, I can’t aim worth a damn. I get it all in a relative location but whoever is sitting next to me is about to get some side spray. I can only assume their retaliation will be to puke on me. Which would be fair. But now I have to puke on him full boar so I’m not one upped. It’s going to be a disaster.
Second thing that happens when I puke is I turn into a monster. I strain really hard. My body turns red and veiny. I yell loudly and blast chunks violently. I try to get it all out in one heave. I’m trying to throw a Hail Mary from my 5. I can only assume my appearance will make infants cry. So now not only do we have barf dripping off the ceiling, we have crying babies.
Welcome to Hell.
At that point I’m praying for ISIS to take over the flight and fly us into a mountain. I’ll plead with the pilots to have a fighter jet to shoot us down.
Anything to stop the madness.