That Time I Died in a Minivan

Catherine:

When I was living in Italy for a few months, I took a mini vacation to London to meet up with my boyfriend and our other friend, as they had won a trip to London fo’ free from a game show. The trip was excellent, as London is a very cool city, but the last day was upon us. Faced with not seeing my boyfriend again for another month or two, he convinced me that staying up all night till my 5AM bus to the airport was the way to go. I protested. Ultimately, I lost the fight. Drinking, exploring, exhaustion ensued. By 5AM, I felt like I was going to die most likely. But. Off to the bus I walked!

I get on the bus – which turned out to be a very packed minivan – and proceeded to feel like I was going to die. Then, suddenly, I realized I was probably going to throw up everywhere, on the Asian couple in front of me, on my backpack, on myself. So, I walked up to the front of the minivan, hoping to find a trash bag. No such luck, not for ole Cath. I informed the driver that at a moment’s notice I was liable to throw up on him and his van, and would you please be ready to pull over? He hated me, and I sat on the cold metal floor bus, head in my hands, for the next HOUR AND A HALF.

Arriving at the airport was such a treat. I immediately threw up in the bathroom. I got in line for security. I left the line, to go throw up again. I got back in line. I was next, and the nausea hit. I held it together, sweat pouring down my face, having hot flashes, and finally made it through, sprinting to go throw up. Again. THEN it was time to find my flight! What fun, I found the terminal and there was a massive line to board. I retired to the privacy of the bathroom and threw up some more. When the flight was at last call, I was the very last to board. I should add that I almost didn’t make it. So, there I was, on the plane. And I kindly explain to the stewardess, in Italian, that I will likely need to throw up everywhere, and please don’t make me feel bad about it? She did not. And as we trolleyed off, I got out of my seat to die another little death.

I would like to add that the whole flight was a nightmare, and upon landing in Rome, still not having slept, I did not feel very well. Below you will find me on the streets of London, most likely predicting what was to come.

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One thought on “That Time I Died in a Minivan

  1. Michael says:

    That explains a lot. You did seem like a zombie the first few days back in Rome. Then you somehow went on to direct a great version of ‘Proof’ at that chill little theater; all the more incredible since you had recently died in a van.

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