101 ways to vomit at 730 km's per hour (Day 6 Brazil)

Sunday’s a slow start, too much sun the day before and the only requirement being a plane trip back to Petrolina means there is no intention to make haste. Arriving on time to the airport only to find out that the plane is delayed by an hour means I could have slept in longer, rats! There seems to be a lack of English speaking individuals on this flight, so I find a comfortable recliner and do some reading. A young local lass by the name of Elaina seems to have the same idea. It appears that she’s got a biology exam coming up soon. The lack of common language means that the best you can do is find out how someone is, whether they speak English and what their name is. Any further attempts at conversation require an internet connection and the incredibility of Google Translate.

An hour and a half later we’re on the plane. After being told that my painstakingly booked window seat is meaningless because “there are no booked seats on this flight”, I make my way down to the aisle seat in row 37. Surprisingly Elaina is directly across from me on the same row. She clearly has not done much studying as she’s seems stuck on page 53. A 12 year old that seems to have had some English education enquires where I’m from and what I’m doing in Brazil. She seems to be zigzagging around Brazil on this Sunday trying to negotiate cancelled flights with her baby sitter, on their way to Salvador. All’s peaceful and quiet as we take off and settle down for an hour and a half flight to Recife. The friendly airhostess’ hand out drinks and snacks, some locals are chatting amicably a few seats ahead of me, the occasional wry chuckle makes me wish I could understand a bit more of this language. Such an awesome chilled morning, perfect travelling mood….

A bit of turbulence starts to rattle the plane. Strange how some folk start to stress when the steel tube starts to rattle, you only need to stress if the engine stops, or falls off and then you don’t generally have enough time to stress so no need to start before anything definitive happens. Anyway how this seems to be a fairly turbulent leg of the journey, say around 2 or 3 on the Richter scale, nothing even remotely serious.

A bit of commotion three rows forward, obviously a guy up there is not used to this level of Richter. This guy was obviously just sitting there holding it in too long and stood up to bolt to the bathroom while the vomit was rising. Instead of going to ground and retching it out there on the airline carpet, he decides that he can run the 20 metres to the toilet cubical right at the very back of the aircraft cabin! Then to add insult to injury….or should we say more juice to the tale, he proceeded to hold his hand to his mouth holding it in. Now we all know that one’s stomach, while being smaller than our eyes, is definitely bigger than the mouth. And so u can imagine, full mouth, big tummy, hand acting as pressure valve, you do not have to be a physics teacher to fully comprehend that the ONLY release mechanism in such a situation is to spray all surrounding passengers with a fine layer of vomit as the pressure escapes around flabby lips being held shut by stubby fingers.

Carrots, why are there always freaking carrots? I happen to be in the lucky isle seat, the biology student next to me, other isle seat, also got the brunt of it. The situation rapidly makes you feel like you could be the centre figure for a Brazilian Ebola outbreak.

The dear old baby sitter in my window seat starts heaving and breathing in and out of her sick bag just in case she blows the safety valve. She offers me an airline serviette but I politely decline as it looks like she’s going to need it fairly soon. The girl and I were ushered to the bathroom to clean up and get given alcohol swabs to “sterilise”.

Then we hit turbulence on the way down so someone else up front started hurling into their bag and out of the corner of my eye I see a young boy starting to blow chunks behind Elaina as the plane is landing. By this time Elaina is looking completely distraught and turns to me and squeals in very broken porto-english, “o my God, get me out!!”.

3 thoughts on “101 ways to vomit at 730 km's per hour (Day 6 Brazil)

  1. “Carrots. Why are there always freaking carrots?” Oh my gosh – did I laugh!! As did everyone else in the room who I read it aloud to! FANTASTIC post, Dave! LOVING your blog (addicted, actually!)
    I was once punished for my selfish revulsion in a similar situation a few months ago when I was travelling with Layla from PE to Cape Town. Waiting to board the plane, a very old lady began to heave — and to roar like a lion with either a croaking-frog complex or severe laryngitis: her barking filled the entire terminal with horror and reciprocal heaving. Normally, I’d have run up to a person in need/danger to help, but vomiting is something I REALLY struggle with. And it turned my heart very black and ugly on this particular day. It was made all the more terrifyingly revolting when she began choking on her false teeth… Even when a kind airport employee ran to help her, whisking the false teeth out with heroic deftness, I still remained stuck in my selfish spot. Anyway – after Layla and I had settled down into our seats on the plane, said kind airport aide arrived next to us, to help the old lady (now re-toothed, but still greenly pale) into the empty seat on my right.
    She was sick only once more before we reached Cape Town…

    Like

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