What a Finale!!

And by "finale", I suppose I mean "finals". And by "finals", I suppose I mean the one I missed this morning.

Yep, you guessed it: didn't quite make it to my 8 AM Marketing Final. Not by choice, however. My body decided to have a complete and utter breakdown from 9:30 PM last night to 4:00 AM this morning on account of one tiny, itsy-bitsy, little, "harmless" slice of cheese pizza. This is the piece of pizza that I almost didn't eat after reading that one tiny, itsy-bitsy, little, "harmless" slice of cheese pizza costs you over 700 calories. But I was hungry, my salad wasn't satisfying my loudly growling stomach, and the 5 kids I was babysitting were helping me burn more than those 700 calories soooooooooo.....I ate it. MISTAKE.

Fast forward one hour later and I am glued to their couch. I feel really bad because I usually am a lot more fun when I babysit and I like to do stuff with the kids. But I couldn't...do...anything. I have a really sensitive stomach so I figure it's just my stomach being sensitive to the fact that I don't usually eat that many carbs or greasy cheese in one sitting. "It'll pass," I think. WRONG.

Then, one of the boys laying on the couch goes, "Are you guys sick?"

"yES!" I say in a crescendo like I have just made a huge discovery and found humanity's missing link. The other two boys go, "Yeah, I'm really sick too. I feel terrible." I ask, "Do you guys feel weak? Do you feel like you're going to throw up?" "Yes," they respond. "Did you eat the pizza?" "Yes," they respond. "Oh no. Oh no no no." I say as I shake my head. "What's wrong, Haley?" they ask. "I think we all have food poisoning". "WHAAAT?" They're concerned. I try to calm their fears but inside I am freaking out.

I have had food poisoning once before. It was the day after my 16th birthday and I was in Universal Studios in Florida with my family. The entire Hard Rock Cafe had just sang me "Happy Birthday" as I stood on a stage and then I had the most amazing milkshake ever. It was one of the best days of my life.

So we were walking around after that and I start feeling sick. So I get sick. EVERYWHERE. I pretty much covered Universal Studios with my milkshake and whatever else was in my tummy. I couldn't control myself...or find a trashcan anywhere---their fault, not mine. A policeman sees us and immediately gets me some water. But I can't keep it down. I start feeling so incredibly weak that I can't walk anymore. Therefore, I sit down and lean against a huge concrete pillar barely able to keep my eyes open with a red SOLO cup of water in my hand while my family tries to find help. Yes, I look like I'm WASTED. People were walking by me, pointing and mumbling, "It looks like someone's had too much to drink..." I wanted to yell, "I'M SIXTEEN! I DON'T DRINK!" but I didn't have enough energy.

My dad comes back with a wheelchair. I look at him like, "Don't you think this is a bit excessive?" but inside I am jumping for joy. What a genius. I am so thankful.

I spend the rest of the evening in our hotel bathroom trying trying trying to feel better for our 6 AM flight home the next day. I'm not.

So my family gets up the next day and is trying to help me get ready to leave. I can't do anything. Then my brother who is 18 months younger than me starts getting sick. My parents look at each other like, "WHY US?!" and try to help their sick 16 and 14 year old get ready for a 3 hour flight. They also have an 8 year old they have to deal with who doesn't really know what's going on.

We're late to turn our rental car in. I throw up in the parking garage. Then Spencer (my brother) does too.

We're late to the security line. Of course it's excessively long. All of a sudden out of nowhere and without any warning, Spencer leans over and throws up ALL OVER my brand new hot pink suitcase. Not having time to be even a little mad, I see the throw-up and start feeling sick. I run across the airport to the closest trashcan and barely make it. My parents are dumbfounded. People in line are pissed at us. Hayden (my other brother) is about to cry.

We're late to the gate. There aren't any seats together so we all have to split up. My dad politely tells the airline stewardess that his son is very sick and needs to sit with one of his parents. I'm feeling better and can manage to sit by myself, but Spencer is getting sick every 20 minutes. She is very rude and says, "You were late; there's nothing I can do. He'll have to manage." My dad looks very solemn and in his head is thinking, "Ok, but don't say I didn't warn you."

We're all situated and about to take off when the stranger sitting next to Spencer starts freaking out because, yep, he's getting sick. The airline stewardess runs to my dad and says, "Would you mind switching seats with this gentleman? I think your son needs you." He looks up at her and thinks, "REALLY?!" haha ohh goodness.

A middle-aged lady is sitting between Hayden and I. I get a little sick during the flight and Hayden is plastered against the window. He's freaking out. He doesn't know this lady, his big sister is really sick, and he doesn't know where his family is. Poor guy.

My mom is stuck in the back of the plane for 3 hours worried sick about her children who she can't take care of next to another lady who is talking about her cats and her knitting hobby.

I laugh every time I tell that story to someone. A lot happened and it's crazy that we even made our flight and stayed alive. Last night was different. All I have to show is 5 grocery bags outside my front door that I'm sure my neighbors are pissed about and a lack of sleep. Ohh, and I look like poo, my room is an utter and complete mess, and I have to take an Incomplete in one of my business school classes until I can sort it out in the spring.

AND I have a 6 AM flight tomorrow. I feel like this is a pattern. I hope I don't get sick.