Monday, June 08, 2015
Also in tradition the varied and anachronistic foods offered.
The heat swelling up inside me was like an inferno. I had sweat pouring out of me and I started to feel nauseous, and shaky. At first I thought I could shake it off, that it'd pass. But as we walked onward to find a shady spot to sit I realized nothing was going to pass except OUTWARD and rushed back to the porta-potty.
A few things about vomiting. First of all, traditionally I'm a kneeler and a toilet clutcher. That's probably gross but that's how I roll. One cannot kneel nor clutch anything IN a porta-potty.
You might wistfully wish for a cold bathroom floor to lay on, to feel the cool tile beneath your cheek. There is no such respite in a porta-potty. In fact, it's vying for position with the Worst Toilet In Scotland and you'll stand and like it.
After the expulsion of all of the things I had eaten I returned to my family, again massively overheated from BEING IN THE PORTA-POTTY. Cruel humor that.
I'd say Mom ruined the day but they were VERY good sports about it. We did stay through the joust but we missed the drum circle dancing at the end (which was too bad, Julia was hoping to dance with the fairies again). I made it to the cool arctic wind of the van's air conditioning and felt well enough to eat dinner by the time we got to our side of town.
I was a little annoyed because, for the first time in YEARS I wore shorts, so that plus weighing less, I felt very strongly that I should've had LESS trouble with the heat, not AMAZINGLY MORE TROUBLE. But I guess not, eh?