Tales of Praying to the Porcelain God

I don’t vomit much. I pride myself on having a pretty solid stomach. But here is to my best recollection the last five times I’ve regurgitated .

The last time I hurled was after my bachelor party. So this would have been around October of 2003. Since I am not really a strip club guy or anything like that, my friends and I decided to do a 95^th street pub crawl. I proceeded to over-indulge in numerous spirits. I am proud to say that I did in fact make it home. However, I wasn’t home long before the stomach started barking and I was emptying the contents of my stomach in the porcelain bowl. Thankfully, only Joyce was home to see me in such a state.

Previous to that would have been sometime in April of 2000. Rob, Dell and I had decided to go on what we used to call a death march. This would not have been a big deal except that I agreed to drive my Aunt and Uncle to the airport the next morning at 6 AM. We would start out on 79^th and Harlem and hit every bar on 79^th until we made it to Durbin’s. The rule was you have just one beer at each bar. Then we would do a different shot at certain bars. When I was a fresh faced young lad in my 20’s I did this without a problem. I realized that night I was no longer in my twenties. I made it through the night without any problems. I got a ride home and remembered to set my alarm. It went off and I felt like micro-waved shit. I tried to force myself to puke but I couldn’t. I had to leave so, I got in my car telling myself I could make it. I pulled up into my Aunt’s driveway and again tried to force the issue without any luck. So, I knocked on the door and my aunt and uncle piled into my car. We were on our way to Midway when it hit me. I knew I had to make an executive decision or I was going to heave right in the car. So, I made a right turn onto a side street off of Roberts Road. I ignored my Aunt’s asking of where are you going, as I exited the car and spewed right onto the street. I got back in the car humiliated and had to explain my actions of the night before.

Before that, you would have to go back to October of 1998. I was watching Howard and the White Boys at Union Station one night after work. I was there with some co-workers having a good old time. Then a co-worker, Keith decided to start buying shots. That would not have been bad except he chose a very bad and spicy tequila. Since I was feeling pretty good thanks to the number of beers I had I did a couple of shots. The show ended and I caught a train home. On that trek south I started not feeling very good. My goal was to make it to my train stop and ralph there. I soon realized that there was no way I was going to be able to hold off that long. My only option was to hit the linen closet that metra likes to call a bathroom. Needless to say it wasn’t pretty. I exited the train car and realized that half of the people had left their seats and moved to a different car. I guess my wrenching had made some noise. I would actually have to hit that train toilet again and I apologize to the Metra janitor who was working that night because it was not pretty.

The time before that you would have to go back to around March of 1998. I was working at Monsanto in Skokie. A co-worker was having a party in Westmont and invited me. I decided against brining my girlfriend at the time. As much of a bitch as she was, she might have put a lid on my drinking but as I was solo I had no one to apply the brakes. Most of these co-workers were younger then I was at the time and I was only 28. They started playing asshole and for some moronic reason I agreed to play and well I was the asshole which meant I was drinking a lot. I was drinking so much that I did a shot of Goldschlager. That would be a mistake. That drink no matter how little I do, just fucks me up. I was fine for awhile. I eventually decided to leave. At the time I was living in Harwood Heights. I made it home but once I got home I was in trouble. About five minutes after walking in the door, I was in the bathroom losing my lunch. All I remember was my then girlfriend calling me an jag-off as I had woke up her son as I threw-up.

So, that brings up the time I threw up at El Mexicano. This would have been like January of 1996. It was cold out. As a matter of fact it was one of the coldest days of the winter. We watched the Bulls game at Dell’s house and then Rob, Wally, Chris, and I decided to go out for a drink at Durbin’s after the game. The waitress had a thing for Chris I believe so she decided to get us fucked up. She brought us this drink called a mind eraser and she kept bringing them. We eventually left and we were all pretty trashed. We decided it would be a good idea to grab a burrito before the end of the night. So, we went to El Mexicano a now defunct burrito joint on 77^th and Harlem. I ordered a Steak Milanesa. I took one bite of it and excused myself. I went outside and proceeded to puke on top of this mint condition 1979 Brown Ford LTD that was in the parking lot. It was so cold out that the vomit froze to the hood. I went inside and ordered my friends to get their food to go or we were going to get our collective asses kicked. Ah, good times….