Adding to my list of things I never thought I would do but end up doing anyway, I spent my Sunday morning puking in an airplane lavatory.

A S. Carolina sunset Saturday evening

Overall I would call it a positive experience. And it wasn't the whole flight, just after we landed and were taxing to the gate. Tricky timing, getting up and getting to the door without getting told to sit back down. Which wouldn't have happened without me puking on someone. Let's just say when you're flying at 6:00 AM after a wedding the night before, listen to your wife when she tells you to take it easy. Do NOT, for any reasons, spend the four-hour reception drinking whiskey and top it off with a few beers in the hotel lobby at the end of the night.

Completing the stereotype, I did feel much better after jamming myself up against the walls to launch what little was in my stomach at the airplane toilet. Thankfully I hadn't eaten that much anyway. Plus, since I held it down until after a remarkably bumpy landing, I could go straight from the bathroom to the line to get the hell off the plane after just sitting down on the toilet until we finally arrived at the gate. Too bad leaving that early meant we were home in time to watch the Bears/Redskins game, which had me feeling nauseous all over again.

All in all a great end to a great weekend. Good fun with some of my oldest friends; never in a million years when I met my freshman roommate for the first time did I ever think 15 years later I'd be standing up in his wedding. Remarkable where a life can lead sometimes. Which was not what I was thinking while vomiting in an airplane the next day.

Current beer-scale: 0.9