Sunday, February 18, 2007

Sickness on a plane

Hello, chickadees! I apologize for my long absence, and offer the following excuses: First, I was in Brazil for a friend's wedding, which was awesome and which I highly recommend.

Then, I had a stomach virus, which I do not recommend, especially the kind that starts at the beginning of an 11-hour flight back from Brazil. Try as I did to convince myself that being sick at that particular moment was good timing--after all, I wasn't missing my vacation time, and what else was I going to do on the plane?--the reality is that, as my friend Iron Seth recently noted, there are few worse places to get sick. In addition to the regular sickness unpleasantries experienced in a teeny, airless, non-stationary bathroom, you have the embarrassment/shame of walking by the same people multiple times an hour on the way to said bathroom; the anxiety about the possibility that there could be a line and you could thus did not make it to the bathroom at the necessary time, which anxiety is only partly assuaged by carrying around those little vomit baggies (especially given that the airlines seem to have shrunk the baggies along with the seats and the meals); the guilty suspicion that you may be making hundreds of other fellow air-travellers sick; and, during the night rendered sleepless due to your having ralphed your Lunesta, the acute malaise/misanthropy caused by watching the hideous Zach Braff vehicle The Last Kiss, whose point seemed to be either that all relationships are miserable or that awkward 30-something men are understandably prone to freaking out when their lovely, kind, funny girlfriends get pregnant, because men need their freedom, dude, and that the best cure for this poignant situation is a fling with a 20-year-old stereotype of perky, innocent femininity.

But I'm all better now! Thanks for asking. :)

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