The Streetcar Party

This, my account of my barfing, written for my team, plus photo borrowed off of Facebook (photo credit Erica Tucker plus whoever took it....I don't remember):

I may never look at Ossington station the same again. I barfed, three times. Once in the garbage can at Ossington, again when I got home, and AGAIN the next morning.

Post-streetcar/post-Supermarket, I “walked” to the subway (at Bathurst) and made it until Ossington. In case you don’t live in the Tdot, that’s 2 stations so all of about three minutes. I remember hearing “arriving at Ossington, Ossington station” and thinking, “Uh oh. Uh OH. Get off. Recycling. Recycling. Litter. LITTER…..bleh” Barf 1. Some nice strangers gave me a bottle of water. I don’t remember getting back on the subway, but I must have.

Then I staggered – and I do mean staggered– home from the subway. I lurched from one side of the very wide sidewalk to the other. I had loud, violent hiccups. I gave myself like pep talks, like “You’ve got this Adams”, “leftfootrightfootleftfootrightfoot” and “just three more blocks and you can barf again”. Out loud, of course. I’m sure I looked/sounded/smelled HOT.

I got home, and vomited.

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a text from Mere telling me about breakfast plans. I remember thinking “who is texting me NOW? At this ungodly hour of…11. Oh.” I took two Advil, but 5 minutes later found myself looking for them in vomit #3. ????? This, I am sad to report, was not the stupidest thing that I did this weekend.

What a fun night. Thanks for a great party. J