If you have a pig snout instead of a human nose, you probably shouldn’t get your septum pierced unless you’re auditioning for the lead in “Babe: Pig Looking Shitty.”
Well, one of her worst nightmares (the other three are getting killed by a stabbing maniac, being in a tsunami and having to interact in any way with a ghost). That’s right, kids – this Saturday, while we were coming back from Dublin, some kid in line at the airport PUKED in FRONT OF ME. MULTIPLE TIMES. AT 5AM. Horrified doesn’t even begin to cover it.
I knew he was going to be sick when I looked over at him while we were waiting to check in for our flight and his face was mint green/he was gagging…and the worst part is, his parents didn’t even take him to the bathroom! They simply directed him to aim “over there,” watched him ralph, then mopped it up before moving closer to the desk with their luggage. I HAVE NEVER IN MY LIFE SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THAT. Who DOES THAT? Honestly!! Of course, my mother, being even more of a vomit-phobe than I am, if that’s even possible, started to panic and wouldn’t stop talking about him (as in: “Where’s little disgusto now? DISGUSTING. What a disgusting family! And that revolting mother, with her little vest. Are you sure they’re on our flight? Are they really on our flight? Where’s the slob family now?”). I had to listen to this the whole way up to security, as we waited in line, and then again at customs – and it turned out that her fears were warranted, because the little drip puked AGAIN while we were waiting in THAT line, and, once again, his parents just let him froth at the mouth and continue on his not-so-merry way to the desk.
I’m not a religious person, but I was praying to every god I could think of that this grey-faced, violently ill 4 year old wouldn’t be near me on the flight. If he was, I was planning on calling the flight attendant over and telling her that I had a terrible auto-immune disease and if I caught a stomach bug I would drop dead so I would have to be moved. Thankfully, he was ten rows ahead of us and I didn’t have to see him until the baggage pick-up.
Good story, Caroline! Tell it again!