So, lots of wonderful and fuzzy things happened this Christmas-time, and I will mention them shortly. With pictures. However, this is not what I am sharing today. Today's post is more of the irony of mishaps on Christmas day. Not a pity party mind you. It's irony.
Yesterday (which was Christmas day for those you that may have missed it) was great and lazy and fun, but Sarah was feeling a little tired and her stomach was a smidge dodgy. (A term I picked up from a British friend, so make sure you read that in a Bristish accent). But never mind that, I was going to enjoy Christmas with the fam as much as possible before my flight home at 6:55. As I started getting my stuff together, and lamenting having to leave the festivities early, the stomach professed it's anger over the intake of Christmas goodies. Although I really didn't partake of much. And only joked about having a glass of red wine (which was used for cooking) with Christmas Eve dinner. I promise. I make it to the airport, read for awhile, get on the plane (which was all but empty) and settled in for the short flight. Which was miserable. My body was hating me for one reason or another. But never mind that. I get off and am a little dizzy. Make my way to the baggage claim while calling a friend about my ride home. She had gotten in a car accident an hour earlier. Told her not to worry about it, I would find other means. It was then when I started seeing large black spots, followed by white ones, and I knew what was coming couldn't be good. I was standing on the people mover at this point and knew I at least needed to get off, if nothing else. I walked slowly forward, bracing myself, stepped off the conveyor belt and made one step to the right, where I collapsed to the floor and put my head between my knees before the serious passing out started. Just glad I didn't actually fall. The funny thing is, no one seemed to notice this spastic girl crouched almost in the way of everyone exiting the people mover thingy. It's one of those moments that you really wish that people would ignore you and not notice, but in all reality, could use some help. I gathered my senses, ripped my coat and luggage off me and eventually made my way to get my baggage and contacted another lovely friend to pick me up. She did so, informed me that her grandmother had passed away that morning, which made for a sober Christmas in her family. Bless them.
Got home, was ready to collapse into bed, when I lost probably everything eaten in the last 48 hours. (I'm sure you are all enjoying this). Cuddled in with my new electric blanket, compliments of Santa, or my parents, and made it to work today at the early hour of 12 noon.
I guess this all this fascinates me because 1) I was feeling like a big baby, and the whole passing out thing and the other thing validates my not feeling well. 2) Because I don't do the other thing, ever, seriously, once in the last, say 15 years, and 3) Merry Christmas everyone!
So who passes out in the airport on Christmas day? Sarah, that's who.