I didn’t eat anything that day. Hell, I usually never eat before long flights as I have a pretty sensitive stomach. But because I didn’t eat anything, the meal cart that came to my row looked divine. There were two options for dinner: chicken or pasta.

My parents, sitting in the front row, whispered to me, “Don’t pick the chicken on the plane. The chicken is bad.”

So I listened. My only option was pasta. Gnocchi with regular pasta sauce and some old cheese on top. It didn’t look good. I glanced at the person sitting at the window seat beside me, who got the chicken. Damn, that looks good. I regretted my pasta dish but I finished it nonetheless.

Thirty minutes went by. I was watching Mamma Mia, grooving to the soundtrack until the flight attendant rushed by the rows. “Everyone put on your seatbelts! Seatbelts guys! We’re about to hit turbulence!” Seconds later, the pilot came on the intercom, “Hi guys, we're gonna experience some light turbulence. Please buckle your seatbelts.”

The turbulence was not light. It felt like I was on a rollercoaster from how violently the plane shook. People were holding onto their trays because everything was flying around. I thought I could get by with watching my movie, but I was mistaken. That feeling came. I was feeling a little sick. I panicked and paused the movie. If I sit still long enough, perhaps the turbulence will go by.

It didn’t. Thirty more minutes of thrashing and jumping went by before the plane stabilized. It was a long, long time for my stomach to be bouncing around like that. The feeling increased. The nausea was stirring. It didn’t help that I was in the middle seat between the person who got the chicken plate at the window seat and my brother in the aisle. That feeling of claustrophobia creeped up into my system. I thought to myself, Just please don't throw up, please don't throw up. And then a moment passed, and I thought, I'm gonna throw up. I went searching for the little brown throw-up baggies in the little seat pockets. There were none.

I looked at my brother sitting next to me. He didn’t pay any mind, just stared at the screen in front of him. I did the same. That didn’t work either. Even looking at the paused movie screen made my stomach uneasy, but I had nowhere else to look. So I thought, Pick a spot and just focus on it. Please let this work.

That’s when it happened. Just one big bump. It felt as if we were going over one steep hill with the narrow decline and immediately rising back up. This is the one. I panicked. This is the one.

My stomach bubbled with an evil intent. I burped, but fuck, it wasn’t a burp. I threw up but I kept it in my mouth. I thought to myself, I'm gonna swallow it. That was my first mistake. No, many mistakes were made. That was probably like my fifth mistake at this point. The bubbles returned with a vengeance. I can’t handle it anymore. Then I spit-up everywhere. On the screen. On the ceiling. On my Looney Tunes sweater. On my Adidas leggings. On my black fuzzy Uggs. On my brother. On the stranger beside me. On my dad in front of me and the row after that. I had good aim.

My mother stood up gasping, “Oh my god, oh my god, what happened?” My dad turned around, “Dude, I thought you just spilled your drink on me. Was that throw up?” Conner was pissed the fuck off at me, as one would be. You know, covered in half-digested pata.

The flight attendant ran over to my mother, “Ma’am, you can’t stand up! There’s still turbulence!” My mother shouted back, “There’s vomit everywhere! Let me please just clean this up!” From the look of horror on the flight attendant’s face she'd seen the mess. She asked my mother to sit down whenever she was done. There was only so much to be done...my mother furiously cleaning up with napkins over any surface she could reach.

A lady behind me attempted to help. She tapped on my shoulder to hand me a piece of gum. “Take this,” she said. I found the interaction insulting. I know she was trying to help, but it wasn’t even mint or spearmint. It was blue fucking berry flavor which would have made me throw up more.

Once the turbulence was over, another flight attendant came by and handed me one of those little brown baggies. She gave a weak smile, “Here, for next time.” I thought, I could have used this the first time but thanks. All could have been avoided if y'all just already had them in your fucking seats.

The flight went on for another four hours. Since obviously the plane can’t open its windows, the smell of vomit lingered throughout the aircraft. There were symphonies of gagging. As the plane prepared for arrival, it got bumpy. I started to gag. My brother side-eyed me in fear but fear not, I had something to catch it this time. I’m sure that the flight crew never forgot to put those brown little baggies in the seats again.

Lesson learned. Just get the chicken.