This is a story about puking. It's funny as hell, but if hearing about puking makes you want to puke, you may wish to skip it. Duly warned.
As you all know, I usually make a new friend every time I go out to the ballgame. This time, though, was a particularly classic moment. Kim and Karen and Dad can flesh this out, but I’ll give a go to describing my introduction to this uh, outgoing kinda guy.
He came shambling up the stairs, and about the time he is two steps down from me his hand flies to his mouth and he has this bright red pre-spit showing through. I do not like me or mine being puked on, so I immediately assessed the situation and grabbed two empty beer cups from behind me and offered them to my soon to be sick new friend.
Kim and K-Ren stepped aside PDQ, and he sat down next to me and began being sick in the beer cup. I leaned down and said there’s two cups there if you need them. If it’s possible to look grateful while hurling, this guy did. The girl on the other side of Kim handed her some napkins and a moistened handiwipe, which Kim handed to him and then stepped smartly aside.
I was trying not to a) laugh and b) look at him puking, so I missed him looking up at Kim and saying who handed me the cup? Kim pointed at me and backtracked fast, and he gave me a look of puppy dog gratitude and said to me “how did you KNOW??” Um, maybe it was the red-colored pre-puke coming from behind the hand you had over your mouth. Maybe I’m clairvoyant. I dunno.
I just leaned down and asked if he was okay, and rubbed his shoulder in a buddy-like way and offered him a piece of cinnamon gum. He accepted happily, because he probably wasn’t tasting so fresh. Then we had a couple minutes of drunkenly trying to get the gum out of the pack, so I finally just gave it to him. He sat there getting his bearings, and then he looked up and said wow, this blows my mind, you guys are taking care of me!
I didn’t want to burst his bubble and tell him that I was really shooting for keeping myself and my party puke-free, and I REALLY had to bite my tongue from telling him that’s what happens when you drink fruity girly drinks like that, but instead I just put on a beatific smile and turned back to my scorecard. Eventually he shambled on back down the stairs. No, he wasn’t sitting near us. Who the hell knows why he climbed 20 rows up to be sick? I got a lot of high–fives from people around us for my quick thinking, and we laughed our asses off at the amazed tone of his question: How did you KNOW??
Ah, youth. Stick to beer, buddy.