PUKE BAG and "Uh Oh..."

I took a hiatus from you.

I mean not to disappoint my readers for my disappearance. As of late, I've been facing down a few medical issues that has left me with little focus for anything else.

Not kidding, you should have seen my laundry load.

But today is good day.

A plane just took off into the blue sky of life. I didn't feel the desperate need to be on that plane but there will always be apart of me that wonders where it is going, will I be going there myself soon, will it land safe, and what culture will it be immersed in?

Being sick is hard. Being sick while traveling is frustrating.

I'm not changing the subject just simply follow the flow of my brain and you will quickly understand what I am saying.

The United Kingdom was fantastic. I was exhausted. I cried 3 times because I couldn't move my body anymore.

I saw so much. I remember half of it. I got extremely ill with what plagues me. On my birthday. Terrible timing but I've gotten use to it.

Scotland's mountains in Spring are a beautiful, vibrant yellow. I was on a bus through the Highlands. I passed out for the first hour because I get motion sickness especially accentuated by illness. But I saw most of it.

My brain is flooded with memories of travel and sickness. Not just Ireland. But since I was at least 17. We flew to Chicago for my Julliard tryouts. I don't think I was nervous. By that point I didn't even want to go to college there.

I tried. I struck out. That night I floated in the pool like a lost soul of bullshit. Floated like a turd you could say.

The flight home was terrible. I needed the puke bag of "Uh oh."

After that I never recovered from the "Uh oh," or feeling like a floating turd in a pool of bleach. Gross. But honest. Not derogatory. If you knew what was plagueing my body, you would realize that the turd is closest to the truth.

Washington D.C. came after that. I spent the first 3 days puking. The last 2 almost getting thrown in jail for harassing President Clinton and inciting riots. I still don't know how that happened exactly...but it was fun. I rarely remember the sickness of my 1999 DC Adventure because the crazy life that happened around it is a way better memory.

Years after have been spent in similar fashion. I would be knocked down at some point, my body unable to handle the stress and food of travel. In fact, I believe the reason that I fared so well in the UK for 2 1/2 weeks out of the 3 is because I ate bread and butter everyday with only small doses of specialty food. I did pig out on haggis. IT'S SO GOOD! Trust me.

So why travel? Why put myself through a stress when I barely handle the day to day functions of living? Why look at a plane and think all those where's, will's and what's instead of thinking, "Uh oh," or a floating turd in a pool of bleach.*

Because...I ATE HAGGIS IN SCOTLAND! And I don't remember a rough and bloated feeling afterwards though I'm almost positive it was there.

I took a Midnight Express Bus to London on little sleep, with McDonald's food (always a mistake), a rundown system while low on medication. But all I remember is watching drunks in Penrith, England order McDonald's food while slurring with their British accent, cops busting up some pot smokers, a very large, robust man wearing designer stonewashed jeans, a boy named Morgan who helped me big-time and the toilet out of order. IT WAS HILARIOUS!

I ran on a sparkling, soft beach in Pembry/Burry Port, Wales barefooted.

I rock climbed Kidwelly Castle and then saw the sign that said, "No Rock Climbing."

I rang a bell for the Tampa Bay Rays!

I played Blackjack and slots in Las Vegas.

I climbed a mountain in Colorado.

Yes, that is what I remember. That will be my truth.

I am a TRAVELER. I am an ADVENTURER.

And no illness will define me.