Adventures in food poisoning

I'm disgusting and warning anyone reading this that it may get gross. We'll see how I feel.

So yesterday, Kathryn and I went to Bazookas Sports Bar in Secaucus for lunch. I drowned my fries and burger in ketchup per my normal routine but I was only able to finish half, which for me is pretty unusual. But whatever, 20 pounds by July, right?

Anyway, I come home and get a call from my friend Anna who wants to meet for dinner and a movie in NYC. Cool, I tell her I'll be there around 9. As I'm getting ready, I start to feel kind of queasy but figure it'll pass. Mind you, I hadn't eaten anything in 5 hours and I hadn't been 'sick.' So it was right about the Hoboken stop on the PATH train that my stomach took a hard-core turn for the worse. Anna met me a Christopher Street and we started walking and the gross feeling began to pass so I figured I'd make it. We popped in to a little Thai place and I ordered food with absolutely no intention of eating it.

After my water came, I excused myself and headed to the ONLY female stall in the place. And I kind of let loose. It's a little awkward vom'ing in a public restroom and not being intoxicated. Especially when the sink is on the outside and it's not very convenient for rinsing your disgusting mouth. Oh, that, and you never actually get the fun of being drunk. But I digress ...

Two trips to the bathroom later and a full serving of chicken pad Thai wrapped to go, Anna and I head out to the Angelika. At this point I feel like I've emptied my stomach and everything should be good. Sure, at one point I felt like I was going to pass out after I had expectorated gallons of 'stuff' from my body, but it passed quickly and I really was feeling much better.

So we're headed down Bleecker, passing NYU, when super-disgusting queasy feeling creeps up on me and I tell Anna I have to go around the corner.

"Are you going to vomit?" she asks in her posh British accent.

"Totally," I say as I kneel down and lose it right there in NYU's courtyard at 10 p.m. on Saturday night. And poor Anna (she must have been so embarrassed) insists I get in a cab and go home.

So we hail one and he wants to charge me $42 for the fare and $8 for the toll. WTF?!?!?!? "Actually, can you just take me to the Christopher Street PATH station?"

(Two-minute time elapse) "Actually, can you go ahead and take me to Jersey? Fuck it."

So I give the man my right arm and run upstairs to the bathroom where I stay for a good 25 minutes, constantly toiling over whether I should be hunching over the toilet or sitting on it. Two ruined pair of panties later and I realize I should've just holed up in the shower. Duh.

But on the bright side, I lost five pounds in a single evening and that's 25 percent of the goal.

I really hope this story brings us all closer together.

*** Becks ***