A little turbulance

Funny story about my first trimester that I know I will never forget!  I was about nine weeks pregnant, in the midst of feeling pretty awful.  Now, to be fair, I wasn't one of those that literally couldn't keep food down.  I just felt nauxious all day every day for a couple weeks.  I may or may not have thrown up in some awkward places (side of the Dallas Tollroad, anyone?) but felt like I was pretty fortunate to be moving right along....  Until I realized the Monday after "spring forward" time change, I had a 6am flight to Lincoln, Nebraska for work.  Now, as "glamorous" as Lincoln sounds, I'm sure you can imagine I was less than thrilled.  But honestly, I figured it'd be fine.  I'd board the plane and then catch up on some sleep.  HA!  I was so wrong.

First, I get to the airport and go to checkin and the self service kiosk.  No go.  My itinerary won't pull up.  I see a ticket agent who tells me that although I booked through this airline, I would be flying on a partner airline and would need to go about thirty gates down to check in and board.  HUH?  Oh, and it's the Monday of Spring Break so every slow walking, toddler wearing a leash thingy, mom juggling a million things and trying to walk family is loitering making their way to their destinations.  So, I decide to go outside the terminal to run power walk to my gate.  Until I see my watch and realize that my plane is boarding in thirty minutes and I still have that hellish security line to go through.  So now I'm literally sprinting.  Full on work-out style.  And if I'm being honest...probably sweating a bit too.  (Yes it's March.  Yes, I'm a sweater when I run.  Which is why it's a rare thing, k????)  But, I make it to through check-in, cut in line to get through security ahead of all the slow moving families (heartless I know) and get to my gate in time to board.  Barely.  I'm the last to get on the plane.

Of course, the plane only holds about twenty people so I rationalize that being the last "5%" to get on the plane isn't so bad.  So I take my window seat next to the business man reading his Wall Street Journal and thank God that I'm next to a small, nerdy type instead of an overweight BO type.  That's my M.O. and nobody's taking it from me!  After take-off the flight attendant announces that we are expecting a bumpy ride and the captain has requested that everyone remain in their seats, with seatbelts fastened.  No big deal, except that the turbulence kicks in right about the same time as my morning sickness.  Afraid to "break any rules" and get out of my seat, I remove the dreaded barf bag from the seat pocket.  Just in case.  And then.  It.  Happens.  I have to actually USE the barf bag.  As the business man trys to make himself even smaller in an attempt to put any sort of space between himself and the violently heaving stinky girl.

Yep, that's me.  Awesome.  Welcome to Lincoln friggin Nebraska.  UGH.