That's Just Plain Sick

You’ve heard of (and possibly experienced) being a sympathy vomiter?

I thought that after bringing up two children, working in a primary school, being cabin crew, plus owning a cat who regularly throws up, my sympathy vomiting reflex was cured (yes I am aware I used the words 'bringing up', it was totally unintentional, but I made myself laugh, so it stayed).

My therapy started when my children were younger. They, at various times, spent time throwing up, as children are wont to do. When they were not so young too (*cough* Eldest Daughter *cough* yes, I know it was just the one night, but oh my, how spectacular).

The therapy continued when I spent several years working in a primary school. Naturally enough, a child would be unwell occasionally.

As staff, we’d almost fight to be the one to deal with the child, because the one who didn’t get there first, ended up having to clean up the floor, table, carpet, chair, toys, or whatever while muttering, “This wasn’t specified in my bloody job description” (we discovered it was, it actually came under ‘To carry out such reasonable duties as the Head Teacher may require’. Pfft. In fact – pfft with knobs on).

This was done while watching any other staff running away and thinking, ‘you bastards. Next bloody time you can watch me disappear. And you know what? I’m gonna disappear so fast, you’ll think I’ve been beamed up by Scotty’.

Being a glutton for punishment an enthusiastic member of staff, I also went on residential trips to Wales with up to forty children. Having many children being travel sick on a coach in one go was a real test of endurance for my stomach.

We had to get the driver to stop because one child was absolutely covered and needed to change his clothes. The other staff backed away, so with an “Oh for gawd’s SAKE” (impressionable kids present – couldn’t swear) I stepped up to the challenge.

The poor kid had to walk the length of the entire coach, wafting that smell and leaving the odd bit of carrot here and there, get changed next to the coach, have his soiled clothes put into a bin bag, inside another bin bag ready as a present for his mum, then get back onto the coach to face his highly unsympathetic school mates.

A couple of them were particularly unkind, so I looked at them, and said, “Ooh, what’s that on your arm?” I paused then said, “It looks like a bit of...” Another slight pause. “Oh no, it’s…” What I was going to say was fluff, but their brains raced ahead, swiftly put two and two together and made puke.

My therapy was completed while working as cabin crew. In particular, on more than one occasion, being handed a bag full of puke, or finding a carrier bag under a seat/in a seat pocket at the end of a flight to dispose of, gave my stomach a cast-iron lining.

A digression (I know, I know, I’m wandering off topic. I seem to do that a lot, I can’t help it, it’s the way my brain’s wired. Wired wrong some have said might say. I say not).

If any of you are under any illusions about how glamorous-a-job being a flight attendant must be – forget them. It’s not. At all. Nuh-uh.

As crew you can, and do, have a laugh, you also meet some interesting people (I once got Fabio Capello’s autograph for another crew member, who was too shy to ask for it. Didn’t bother me - I didn’t give a toss know who he was. Although I suspect after England's pitiful performance in the World Cup, plenty of you now don't really give a toss about him either), but forget the image of it being high glamour.

Oh, also, if any of you have a hankering to join the mile-high club – forget that too because:

1. Toilet doors on an aircraft can be unlocked from the outside. If the crew suspect hanky panky, after knocking on the door, they WILL unlock it.

2. If the crew do catch you, you’d better hope they don’t inform the rest of the passengers over the PA – all it takes is a pissed off crew member with a mean streak. They will do it in the interests of putting off any other passengers from trying it of course.

3. If the crew do catch you, even if they don’t PA it, they WILL tell every other cabin crew member, plus the flight crew. You’ll find yourself the object of much smirking, you will develop a complex about being watched like a hawk for the rest of the flight, and you may also get a mention in internal company-wide memos.

4. Last, but certainly not least, it’s an aircraft toilet for gawd’s sake. One of THE most unhygienic places you can get. Do you really want to be doing that somewhere many, many others have peed and/or shat all over the place? How romantic.

But hey, if you’re willing to expose yourselves to all sorts of health risks and literally have all bared, then knock yourself out, but don’t say you weren’t warned.

End of digression (those pesky neurons are back on track).

So after all those years of extensive therapy, I considered myself well and truly cured. How could I not be after all that?

Dopey, a regular thrower upper, bless her little furry paws, began making the oh so familiar noise. I leapt into Operation Shit Where’s The Kitchen Towel – this involves tearing off two sheets of kitchen towel and shoving it on the floor in front of her. It saves cleaning the carpet.

She moved. I moved the kitchen towel. She moved again. As I moved the kitchen towel, she threw up on my hand.

All that therapy?

Down the pan.