A pepperoni pizza had started all this mess.
I hung my head low, surrounded by squished passengers on the subway. The train was crowed, partially because it was a Saturday, but also because the N train’s tunnel was under construction. Thus, many unhappy New Yorkers had piled into the less favorable 7 train.
I had gone into work at 9 this morning (earlier than usual) and had felt nothing except tiredness. The day had passed relatively quickly, with not much seeming amiss until after lunch. Around 3:30pm, my stomach was churning and waves of dizziness attacked me every 15minutes of so.
“Actually no this isn’t on sale – yeah sorry, someone must have just put it on the sale rack,” I heard myself mechanically saying with a fake smile plastered to my face. What was going on? The nausea would suddenly ease up, and I could function for another 10 minutes or so.
But something bad happened. I work on the 3rd floor, and on the 2nd floor is the café. Smells of cookies, coffee, and pizza often waft up towards our counter, and unfortunately my usually nonexistent gag reflects did NOT enjoy the idea of pepperoni at all.
Run.
And so I did - up two flights of escalators, passed agonizingly slow walkers, to a vacant 5th floor restroom. There I was finally able to… well, to not do much of anything. But I wasn’t going to repeat this episode so I informed my co-workers that I was going home.
Ugh! But home was so far away! This kind of commute doesn’t happen in Virginia.
Hence me sitting with my head hung low in the crowded subway car. Everyone seemed to be breathing hot air, mixing into this nasty toxic oxygen that made my ailing stomach very angry, indeed.
Amazingly enough after mentally chanting Joshua 1:9 like a crazy person, stopping by a pharmacy, walking 15 minutes home without my jacket zipped because the cool air felt so nice, and crashing into my bed – I survived.
I won’t get into the details, but let’s just say 10pm – 11pm was not a pleasant hour.
24-hour stomach bug: 1, Britney: 0.
And so I did - up two flights of escalators, passed agonizingly slow walkers, to a vacant 5th floor restroom. There I was finally able to… well, to not do much of anything. But I wasn’t going to repeat this episode so I informed my co-workers that I was going home.
Ugh! But home was so far away! This kind of commute doesn’t happen in Virginia.
Hence me sitting with my head hung low in the crowded subway car. Everyone seemed to be breathing hot air, mixing into this nasty toxic oxygen that made my ailing stomach very angry, indeed.
Amazingly enough after mentally chanting Joshua 1:9 like a crazy person, stopping by a pharmacy, walking 15 minutes home without my jacket zipped because the cool air felt so nice, and crashing into my bed – I survived.
I won’t get into the details, but let’s just say 10pm – 11pm was not a pleasant hour.
24-hour stomach bug: 1, Britney: 0.
I'll win next time you stupid, little virus.
