I Tried My Best...


...I really did. I wasn't going to talk about my trip home this week because, ya know, I didn't want to seem like a whiny baby but the situation has reached such absurd heights that it would be criminal not to at least share some of the details. The reason for my trip this weekend was for Andrea (a good college friend) 's wedding. I had it all planned out, I'd fly into Atlanta on Thursday, spend a few days at home and then drive myself to Augusta on Saturday for the wedding. I even had a hotel room booked...at the Marriott, this was going to be a major event. So, yeah, I got in on Thursday morning having missed the New York City blizzard by hours, my mom picked me up and we had a nice lunch, thought about shopping, decided we had the rest of the trip to do that and instead went home and got ready for a big family dinner, cousins, uncle and girlfriend and grandfather and girlfriend attending. I'll take just a moment here to throw in that my grandfather, dubbed The Silver Fox by adoring fans, is now dating one of my late grandmother's best friends. It sounds trashier than it is I think (keep in mind I come from a long line of Jethro Jeromes). Linda assures me that it's what my grandmother would have wanted, but having known my grandmother, I question whether that is true or not... Anyway, we had a great time at dinner loudly joking about Grandaddy Jerry and Linda's upcoming shotgun wedding due to her miraculous post-menopausal pregnancy. My teenage cousins cringed, my parents guffawed, my uncle asked for another beer, and I revelled in the fact that my grandfather's greeting to me was, (with a thick Virginia drawl) "Brittany, you look frail and thin." Oh we had a grand time and I came home, stomach full, tired from my flight, and ready for bed. And here's where the story really begins. Fasten your seat belts, dear readers, you're about the catch a ride on the Vomit Train! Yaaaay!

At around 3AM I awoke from a feverish nightmare. A waiter had placed a salad covered in bleu cheese and pears, not unlike the one I had consumed hours earlier, in front of me and I was fighting to make him take it away before I got sick. It was quite a movie awakening, I sat straight up in bed, heard my stomach rumble, and, "Uh oh..." I uttered aloud. The next 10 hours of my life, count them TEN hours were spent literally crawling from my bed to my bathroom. It was horrendous. I was struck and struck hard by the stomach flu that has been sweeping the nation. Honestly, I thought I'd make it through the Winter having conquered the virus, immune to the stomach flu I thought. Everyone else had already gotten it, but not me, I was resistant. Conqueror of sickness! Karma does not treat arrogance with sympathy. I was out for a good two days and had to miss the wedding. Tragedy. But, "It's alright," I thought. The stomach flu is a great way to lose weight and work out and I still have three days to hang out with the parents. My mom and I can go see some movies, do the shopping we missed on Thursday, just have some girl fun...My thoughts were soon quieted by the rumble of her tummy as we watched "Couples Retreat" Saturday night On Demand. I knew from the urgency of her dash to the bathroom, this wasn't going to be pretty. She assured me, "No, I'm not going to get it, I am NOT going to get it," but I could tell from the look in her eyes, she could feel it. She could feel the vomit rising. And at 11 o'clock, the virus took hold. Bonnie Lynn was down for the count. I took a deep breath, well not that deep, I mean consider all that's been going on in this house, and resigned myself to the fact that this Mommy/Daughter trip was a bit of a dud, we were just going to have to be each other's nurses. It happens. We'll laugh about it in the future, and besides some quality Daddy/Daughter time was definitely in order.

The next day, Bonnie was finally resting peacefully on the couch and my dad was relaxing with his cup of coffee. With the smirk of a veteran talking to a young soldier I asked, "So, do you think you're next?" And with the assurance against sickness my family for whatever reason has he answered, "No way. I'm not getting it. I've decided, I'm not getting it." I was suspicious, but I went along with the fantasy. I even envisioned us sharing a beer that night, having dinner somewhere in the neighborhood. My dreams were cut short by the familiar gurgle that came sometime around 7pm. "Well, I'm off to bed," Dad explained as he headed to his room at the absurdly early hour. "But it's only 7, Dad," I reminded him. "Have to be up early for work," he said. And I then I recognized it, a familiar glance, I could see it in his eyes, he knew it was coming. He knew it. And sure enough, at 4AM, I heard the bathroom fan come on in my parents' room and BAM, Jethro Jerome, third man down.

I'm not ashamed to say that, by Monday, yes that would be yesterday, I was more than ready to get back to the City. I've basically been living in a hospital for a week and c'mon my parents are in their mid 50s. I should have at least another 20 years before I have to start taking care of them, right?! I promptly looked up flight schedules and decided that I'd move my Tuesday flight up from 6:40PM to an afternoon flight, maybe around 1 or 2. Unfortunately, in order to switch a flight on Delta, you have to wait until three hours before departure to change, otherwise it's a charge of $150, obviously, not happening. I went to bed last night planning on getting up and getting on my noon flight home. Oh fate, you do have a sense of humor. I didn't even have to call Delta this morning. No. They called me. To tell me that my flight was cancelled. All flights today are cancelled in fact. Because there's a snow storm. In Georgia. Yeah, there's a snow storm in Georgia. After missing the NYC blizzard by hours and making it home in time for the wedding that I missed anyway, the snow found me...in Georgia.

So, my friends, here I sit, at my kitchen table, the table where I spent 18 years of my life, and I say to you, "Pray for me." Pray that I get out of here tomorrow. Don't get me wrong. I love my parents, love them, but if I spend another minute trolling through On Demand for another chick flick, my eyeballs are literally going to start bleeding. And no one wants that, really, nobody wants that right, RIGHT?!!!!!!


help.

Comments

Jules said…
Hey, maybe I have the wrong blog, but did you once post a series of photos with a sad eyed stuffed ostrich with an alleged drug problem? Cause I seem to recall reading that *maybe* in this blog. If this is indeed yours, link me to it again! Cause.. it was funny.
Brittany Felton said…
Hey Jules, yeah, that's my blog. The Ballad of Jeri and Brittany spans three posts. It was a pretty dramatic episode in our lives. You can find it in my archive from May 2009. Glad you liked it!

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