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All about that one time I threw up In Public, and why I can never eat Chicken Caesar Salad again.

I am not a vegan.  I am not a vegetarian.  I have never had qualms about red meat or raw fish and have even eaten snails.  Really, with the exception of popcorn and nuts, I will eat almost anything; except I can no longer eat chicken.  This doesn’t have anything to do with some political position, nor does it have anything to do with abject horror at the way chickens are treated before the end up neatly wrapped in the grocery store.  I kind of wish it did, but it does not.  I briefly mentioned a few posts back that I had food poisoning while I was in Washington, DC.  The real story behind that is a little bit more intense than a one-sentence mention, and the end result is that I have been unable and unwilling to eat chicken for a solid 5 weeks.  Chicken!  It is everywhere!  And I can hardly think about it without getting nauseous.  I don’t imagine this will change any time soon.

On my way to Washington, DC I had a 3-hour layover in Detroit.  I got off the plane, stretched my legs, and because I have never been the kind of girl who can survive on stale pretzels and diet soda, I stopped for lunch at a nice-looking Mediterranean restaurant.  I ordered the waitress-recommended Chicken Caesar Salad Wrap, sauce on the side.  It was quite good, not life-changing, but tasty.  In fact, if I’m trying to be completely unbiased, I think I probably really enjoyed it.  Asiago cheese, romaine, grilled chicken; it was light and healthy and went very well with my “leave me alone with my book” mentality.

An hour or two later I boarded the plane and settled in for the short flight to the east coast.  Tragically, this “short flight” ended up being the most turbulent bit of air travel I have had the misfortune to experience.  From take-off to landing the plane rattled and shook and dipped and dropped all over the place.  I felt horrible.  My stomach was all crawly and my mouth was dry.  I asked the flight attendant for a glass of ginger ale, hoping it would settle my stomach a bit. It did not, I was still queasy.  The woman sitting next to me filled several of the vomit-bags during the hour-and-a-half flight (turns out, she was pregnant, so it is forgivable) and my queasiness turned into full-blown “I’m going to throw up on this plane!” panic!  I tried not to think about it.  Upon notification of our imminent landing, I put in a fresh piece of gum, tightened my seatbelt, and held on for the inevitably bumpy ride.  It was a bounced landing.  Meaning the plane’s wheels hit the runway, bounced, and then landed again.  Had the pilot been anywhere near my seat I would have…well, I don’t know.  But it would have been messy.

Once on the ground, I was collected by my friend Nate and we headed back towards his house with a quick stop at Home Depot to pick up a nail or a screw or a bolt or something.  I was still feeling pretty rotten, so I grabbed a bottle of water from his trunk and sipped my way through the nuts-and-bolts aisle.  Being on solid ground was not making me feel better.  In fact, if I had to guess, I was feeling worse.  And then, un-mistakenly, I felt it; you know that feeling where you know you will be throwing up in short order.  Foolishly, I tried to tell myself that I was not, in fact, going to vomit; I tried forcing my stomach to calm down through sheer argument.

This was a mistake.

By the time I stood up to make a run for a garbage can it was too late.  My lunch came up and all over the floor of Home Depot.  People, I threw up.  In public.  I am not a child, nor am I pregnant.  I have no excuse.  I was mortified, but I knew I wasn’t done.  I vaguely remember saying something to Nate and heading for the door, trying to side-step/leap over the shockingly enormous puddle that completely covered the aisle (and Home Depot has really wide aisle).  Once in the parking lot I threw up two more times in some wood-chip-covered flower bed.  I tried to wash out my mouth as best I could and nearly swallowed an entire (travel-sized!) bottle of Listerine.  Ugh.  Throwing up in the privacy of your own bathroom where you have means to clean up the mess is horrible enough…but in public?  With no shower or toothbrush or anything?  Gaaah, it’s horrendous. Not recommended.

I feel like I need to insert a very belated, but still heart-felt apology to the Home Depot in Arlington, VA.  I didn’t mean to.  I promise!  If there was any way that whole, messy situation could have been avoided I assure you it would have been done.  I see my mistake in waiting when The Feeling came, but I honestly thought it was the bumpy flight, not the diseased lunch.  I am regrettably sorry about The Incident and will always choose Home Depot over Lowe’s to show my utmost appreciation and support for your fine establishment.  Again, a thousand apologies.

If this had been the end of my poisoning problem, it would have been bad.  But, sadly, it was not.  There was no more Throwing Up In Public, but I spent the rest of the night in the bathroom watching partially-digested Chicken Caesar Salad Wrap make it’s way down the pipes of the greater Washington, DC area.  The next day I heard about a recall on romaine lettuce in many eastern states, including Michigan, due to E. Coli.  I wouldn’t doubt that the source of my poisoning came from the sullied lettuce rather than the chicken…but it’s the images/smell of upchucked chicken that haunts me.  In the ensuing weeks I have had lettuce quite frequently, but I haven’t been able to eat or even look at chicken.

What about you, any food-poisoning stories?  Any foods you cannot touch ever again?  Any Public Vomiting episodes?

On the very small chance that an employee of the Arlington, VA Home Depot happens to read this, I really am terribly sorry.  I know it must have been horrible for you, believe me I can commiserate.  It was horrible for me too.  And I solemnly swear over the entire world supply of Chicken, Chicken Caesar Salad, and Chicken Caesar Salad Wraps, it won’t ever happen again, cross my heart and kiss my elbow.

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