Dramamine Please?

Let's discuss a little thing I like to call motion sickness. In addition to my perversion to all things leather and mayonnaise, my obsession with reality television, coupled with my catastprophic nature and downright awkwardness, I've also been suffering a lifelong battle with motion sickness. Man, am I a great catch?

This has been going on for as long as I can remember. I originally found this out on several trips to visit my gradparents. Usually, at some point along the 12 hour car ride, I would instruct my father to pull over so I could vomit or I'd just use a brown bag. Whichever came first. Most of these trips were spent with me strewn horizontally across the family minivan's backseat, the two seatbelts stabbing me mercilessly in the side.

Throughout elementary school, I was the nerd that sat in the front row of the bus. I was the girl that sat on park benches on choir trips to Hershey Park while her friends rode the rides. I was the girl that could never swing on a swing, play with a sit-n-spin, or even participate in a good round of Ring around the Rosie. For my pockets contained no posies, they carried dramamine for my queasy tummy. I relate my early years to John Travolta's character in "The Boy in the Plastic Bubble." I chose Travolta over Jake Gyllenhall, who played in the remake, because of his 70's feathered hairstyle. Yeah, I dig.

I bring up my lifelong battle with motion sickness because I'm nervous about how that's going to affect my 4th of July plans which consist of KEG BUS ROUND 2!

Kenny's thoughts on the trip: "Keg Bus? I'm scared for you. That was one of the worst nights of my life. Keg Bus is fun but it can become a nightmare. Be careful!" Great! Kenny doesn't even know about my "situation."

KEG BUS ROUND 1 started off innocently enough. Just a few friends getting together to celebrate a couple birthdays. Normally, I pregame the shit out of a night. I pregame if there's no game. I pregame before dinner and I pregame for a nap. This night, however, I know a pregame will not warrant a safe evening so I lay low and hope no one notices I am not enjoying a refreshing cocktail before boarding the bus.

Sidenote: I asked one of my friends why she wasn't drinking once and turns out she was knocked up. I probably don't have to mention that put a serious dagger on my St. Patty's Day festivities.

Upon boarding the bus, I head to the back (mistake #1). We take off and the party begins! I limit myself only to two Yeunglings the entire ride to the group's alma mater; Salisbury. Throughout the trip, the Keg-Bus host taught everyone the Solja-Boy and the boys perfected their bus flips (you can really tell they summered in Ocean City). Still laying low in the back, we arrive at our first and final destination of the evening; The Monkey Barrel.

There was an annoucement made about the potency of the beverages at the Monkey Barrel before exiting the bus. They can really F someone up so BE CAREFUL! The Monkey Barrel, I quickly notice, was named after the enormous monkey cage and their specialty drinks served in equally enormous barrels.

Deciding that I am off the wheels of the bus, it's time to play catch up (mistake #2) and I order myself a barrel. The remainder of our time at the Barrel was spent playing in cages, busting some moves and just having an overall great time.

The ride home is when the shit hit the fan. I mean the shit hit the fan and EXPLODED. Any passerby would have thought we had gone back in time and picked up the bubonic plague. Immediately, Robby and I begin fighting over the restroom to take throw ups in. I pass out with my head on the shoulder of a man they call "Animal." Surprising = No. Embarassing = Yes. I woke up to him stroking my arm. Lovely. I couldn't tell you what else happened on that Keg Bus ride home but I do know this incriminating picture has surfaced.

Basically, what I am saying is that I hope I don't end up like this on the 4th:



Yes, that's three heads in three trash cans.

One word. Petrified.