Vomiting is a part of life. I know of no person who has not vomited at least once. Usually vomiting is the result of some illness like the flu or food poisoning. For many people, the vomiting experience isn’t limited to the occasional bout with a nasty intestinal bug. Some can’t quite handle roller coasters, while repulsive smells trigger vomiting in others. Then there are those proud warriors who frequently vomit due to certain circumstances in automobiles. I am one of those people. I’m usually a little embarrassed when I get carsick, but there was one incident that I am proud to talk about.

It all started with a beautiful, sunny April morning. However, the sunshine was not warm at all; in fact, the temperature was hovering around 40 degrees. A group of friends and I were heading to Omaha for a concert. We were taking two vehicles, a minivan and a station wagon. Those of us who get carsick usually take the front seat of a car, but I was feeling optimistic that morning and took a back seat of the van. We started our journey and turned the heater to the max because of the chilly air. For the easily nauseated, the car heater is a vicious enemy. Instead of a comfortable warmth, the heater creates a stuffy atmosphere that sets the stage for queasiness. I was determined to be resilient yet cautious, so I warned the other passengers of my debilitating condition. They exchanged worried glances, but I assured them that I was feeling fine.

The car heater notwithstanding, the trip was wonderful. My stomach easily handles the straight freeways of the Midwest. We arrived in Omaha with time to spare because we wanted to catch the band perform a small acoustic show at a local record store. We had printed directions from MapQuest, which are virtually worthless in an unfamiliar location. We took a wrong turn and called the other driver. We agreed to stop at the first empty lot to get our bearings.

Unfortunately, the stop-and-go traffic of the city was starting to work its black magic. The quick, uncertain movements of our driver, Maria, disrupted the sensitive equilibrium of my inner ear. I urged her to pull into the closest parking lot. With a fearful glance back at me, she obliged without question. I assured everyone that I simply needed some fresh air. By this point, I was experiencing the familiar symptoms that plague me every time I request a “pull-over.” The pre-puking stage is accompanied by a feeling that one’s head is trying to float innocently into the air. There is an undefined gag-feeling in the throat that threatens to release every undigested particle of food in the body. The most obnoxious symptom is the increased production of saliva under the tongue. I would speculate that this is the human body’s pathetic attempt to protect the mouth from the hydrochloric acid lurking in the stomach.