And I won't eat tuna to this day.

Everyone Still Remembers Time You Threw Up In 5th Grade

After reading the above link from The Onion, a publication I frequent when work is slow (or extremely busy... procrastination is a disease, people), I took a few moments, regained my composure and started reminiscing about the countless times in elementary school that sounded exactly like those mentioned.

I wouldn't say what I've had since birth is necessarily a fear of vomit, but just the thought of sickness always made me shake, panic and usually vomit later that night. As an adult (which in itself is debatable), I can say with almost 100% certainty, this is probably the result of a stomach flu passed through the 25+ students before the first gurgle ever entered the puker's throat.  But, as a child, I often linked it to the fact that I saw one of the most disgusting bodily fluids known to man at school that day and any other lessons learned will be erased from memory.

The first, and most memorable incident (with the deepest scars), was in the 1st grade. It was a couple hours after lunch and I was in Mrs. Fiorello's class, starting to close up shop for the day. I remember some commotion going on by the teacher's desk, which was at the far end of the room, a straight shot from the only exit.  Of course, as a curious 6 year-old, I look to the crowd just in time to see Casey open her oral flood gates and spew her semi-digested tuna sandwich across the floor and blackboard.  There were screams, squeals, and of course boys pointing fingers and laughing with a resounding "ewwwwww." Then there was poor Mrs. Fiorello, doing her best to cover the hatchet with the industrial sized garbage can and run/lead poor Casey to the door.  Again, as a fellow 6 year-old, with something large and annoying in her face, Casey swatted the pail away to give herself enough room to release the rest of her lunch right in the doorway; the doorway 25 kids now had to pass through to catch their bus. Whomp. Oh the joys of teaching. It is to this day, the thought of tuna (from the can) still gets me nauseous. The instant the smell hits the air, quiet echoes of retching and the feeling of urgency come flooding back.  I've certainly tried to overcome these so-called 'fears'; like an arachnophobe sitting in a tub of spiders, I've tried indulging in my mother's alleged 'Famous Tuna Salad,' but to no avail.  I'm scarred for life.

As we grow older and graduate through each school of education, even moving into careers, the instances of puke become exponentially fewer. Whether it's our immunities being boosted or our improving self- control, it's rare to see a person getting really sick or witnessing/experiencing vomit that isn't alcohol- or motion- induced (which is a whole other type of 'sick').  But in the, probably, two dozen instances of my elementary education, I've definitely gotten to know people by their vomit types. For instance, the surprise puker, who was fine up until the second you looked away, turned back and saw them covered in white, smelly goo.  The panick-er, who the teacher would try to 'calm' them before the 'storm,' but who'd run around until the monsoon of sickness arrived, spraying students, desks, and the like. The one who ALWAYS puked (we're talking every year for 6 years, sometimes twice in a grade), forcing the teacher to keep that nasty can of Nilosorb (is that the right stuff??) at arms reach in the off chance something didn't sit well in Mike's stomach.  The cleaner stuff usually smelled worse than the puke but would allow the Janitor to come up and sweep it all away... as if the memory wasn't already burned in our young, impressionable minds.

It's amazing the things that stay with you from your school days and affect you as an adult. As a 'late' 20-something (eegads!), sitting next to/ near a bus, plane or train puker never ceases to get me all jittery and shakey, like I just got rear-ended on 395N.  At least I can safely say, I won't be remembered as the 'puker' in 5th grade... probably more like 'that girl with freckles and messy bangs.'  I can live with that.