Today I was vomited on. I knew something of this sort would happen eventually along my travels, and in all likelihood it will happen again. In fact, it wasn't all that bad-- as far as getting puked on goes, at least. More than anything, it was downright bizarre. I found myself unable to be upset as I was simply overwhelmed by confusion.
The tale starts off like most other accounts of misery; on a bus. Actually, it was a van, but the two are often interchangeable around Southeast Asia. The only difference being that a van rather restricts your individual mobility, which is key for the story at hand. Anyhow, the van sets out in the morning through the breathtaking mountains of northern Laos. For the first half of the eight-hour trip, the roads are treacherously rough and the ride is a violent, jerky, and painful one. It is a ride requiring constant bracing to prevent your teeth from bashing against the seat ahead and your head from cracking the window. Oblivious to this, the local girl sitting packed next to me insists on trying to sleep. Deciding my shoulder is her best bet, she repeatedly nods off on top of me, only to almost immediately be violently jarred awake by the hopping of the van causing my shoulder to almost knock her teeth out. Yet like a hermit crab reaching its eye sockets back from under its shell, within seconds she resumes her slumber atop my volatile shoulder. This process repeats itself many hundred times over the next four or five hours.
Finally, after stopping for lunch, the journey resumes on much smoother (Chinese-built) roads. While the road still curves like a small intestine, the smoothness now allows the driver to proceed at a much greater velocity. I'd be curious to run a study examining the average vestibular fluid density of various ethnicities because I wouldn't be surprised if those of Asian descent tend to have more viscous vestibular fluid. Regardless of the cause though, within a short time of departing lunch, the van devolves into a self-contained vomitorium barreling through the Himalayan foothills at fifty kilometers an hour. First to fall prey to the bulimic ballet was none other than my good friend, Miss Shouldersleeper. Now at this point I'm a little fuzzy on what happened. I was reading, and trying not to pay attention to all my green-faced companions, as my neighbor reaches behind me and rummages through some items. After a little while, I notice she's still leaning behind me and hasn't really moved much. At the same time, I realize my back is wet and it's not nearly hot enough for that to be sweat. A probing swipe of the hand returns a small amount of partially digested sticky rice. Okay. I've been vomited on. This is happening. Yet the girl continues to mind her own business, even acting as if nothing has happened. I stare, mouth hung open like a cow in mid-chew, baffled by her nonchalance. My perplexed state refuses to abate as she continues to vomit throughout the remaining two hours, occasional using a tiny bag to catch the excretions but often failing. All the while, not a single word was said.
Maybe it's Lao etiquette to yak on the nearest foreigner, maybe I should feel honored. A lot of thoughts went through my mind as I was pressed up against the window, covered in slowly drying pho regurgitate, but none of them could rationalize the events into a state of normalcy. I've seen and experienced a lot of absurd things in the last few months, but this undercover upchuck has undoubtedly wedged itself in the upper rankings of strange.
3 comments:
This is probably the most beautifully written description of getting thrown up on in a van that I have ever read. That look on your face is precious as well. I'm so happy that you are posting not only incredible photos of caves and statues and waterfalls, but really take the time to spell out the, uh, less glamorous side of your glamorous life. Glad to hear that you are doing well. I want to know more about jungle trekking!! What things lurk there?
Sending my best from San Jose!
Yeah...getting puked is pretty gross. The only thing worse is having to wear crusting puke on the back of your shirt for the duration of the bus ride. Yuck! Although, this is one way to get a seat all to yourself. Albeit, a disgusting one. Also, this experience is great training for parenthood, if and when you take that journey. Your photo really captured the moment. kb
Definitely an experience to remember! Excellent writing, I could feel (and smell) your agony. Hope the right long-term opportunity pops up.
L. A. Jay
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