I woke up at 6:30 and still needed to do some more packing and clean up, and there were still things in our condo that belonged to others. The sun was rising over the pier so I took this picture from the balcony.
I was so sad.
By the time everything was cleaned and ready to go, we had a cab pick up Sean and I, plus Wes, Val, Craig, and Chelsea (our flights left a couple hours after theirs but we still wanted to go to the airport with them).
I was sick. I knew I was sick.
Once at the airport, we said goodbye to the Culvers and then - I got sick.
Then a couple hours later on the plane, I got sick again (first time ever using a barf bag). Then an hour later, sick again (in the bathroom).
Here's my advice: if you're gonna yak on a plane, take a barf bag into the bathroom, because the blue scented goo in those toilets is even worse.
I puked yet again at the Dallas airport. By then I could hardly stand from the exhaustion. I was laying down and dry heaving. I carried an empty barf bag in my hoodie's pocket.
The second flight was another three and a half hours long, and all I wanted to do was be in my bed. I couldn't even take anything - I had already puked my aspirin hours earlier.
The last flight showed the movie Matchstick Men (it was okay) and some TV programs. If it weren't for this, I know I would have gone insane. No matter what position I was in, it was unbearable. And both planes were packed full.
We arrived in Seattle around 6:30 I think, and I lay crumpled on the floor as Sean retrieved our luggage. Once he had the big suitcase, he rolled it over to me and the wheel bumped right into the side of my kneecap - as in, the funny bone spot on the kneecap. You know the spot - where it sends nerves shooting to your toes? Yeah, that spot. It hurt so bad I wailed like a baby.
People all over the baggage area were staring and I had a crowd around me offering me ice and a few people said they'd call the paramedics. I didn't have the energy to tell them I had been puking and crying all day and I was just cranky. And the only possible way to fix pain like that is just hold it really hard - like when you stub your toe and all you can do is squeeze it like crazy.
We limped to a taxi and found a burst of air in the 20's and I started crying again. Crying just felt natural by then.
Sean's car was parked at Kinko's (about 20-30 minutes from our house) and it was frozen solid. Plus he doesn't have an ice scraper, plus the washer fluid sprayer thingie hasn't worked in years. So while I'm slumped against our luggage inside Kinko's, Sean's driving in circles around the parking lot trying to de-ice his car the scary way.
Once he pulled me and the luggage out of his car, I fell into bed while he went to the grocery store to buy me Pedialite, bread, and honey.
I was in bed with my clothes on for a couple hours. He woke me up once to eat some toast and honey and Pedialite, and another time to help me change into pajamas (and he took this picture).
I slept for 14 hours.
Turns out Mom has two friends who recently returned from Florida with a horrible flu, and Val e-mailed me to say she was also extremely ill on the flights back, and she slept until one the next day.
So there you have it.
Those of you who made it all the way through these pages, congratulations.
Those of you who were there, let me know if I missed anything.