Vomit Comet From Cannes To Nice
Monday, June 30th, 2008Some things are universal. Like combining a moving vehicle, a motion sick toddler and a beverage.
I get on the bus from Cannes to Nice. It is a hot day. The bus is crowded with locals and tourists.
There is one family, a Mom, two toddlers, and a feeble old man. The kids are complaining about not feeling well, about it being hot, about “are we there yet?” The boy, seated backwards (deathly for those suffering from motion sickness) is looking green. The Mom, struggling with their bags, isn’t paying attention. She passes the kids a full bottle of water. The girl takes a sip, grimaces, rubs her tummy, passes it to the brother.
The brother drinks. The. Whole. Thing.
The bus is moving, swaying back and forth, back and forth. The boy grabs his slushing stomach. “I’m going to be sick,” he announces. His cheeks puff out. The Mom takes one look at him and pulls him into the aisle.
The boy, being a boy and without any embarrassment at all, vomits. Everything. Tries to pitch the stuff as far as possible. All up and down the aisle.
The bus stops. I’m thinking ‘great, it is going to go out of service and I’ll have to figure out another way to get to Nice.’ Nope. The bus driver tells the Mom to clean it up, points to a pharmacy. She runs to the store, comes back with paper towels, cleans it up, puts it in a plastic bag. The kid, feeling much better, is laughing at something his sister said.
We continue on, windows wide open, the stench almost overpowering. People get up. Eyes widen. Noses crinkle. Complete disgust.
Where does the family get off the bus? At the airport. They’re flying to Denmark this morning.
I hope the airline has barf bags.