Boot Camp Blues
I recently moved to a new city and as I didn’t know many people I had: a) started taking part in boot camp type outdoor fitness classes and, b) had a blind date with a co-worker’s brother who lived about 80 miles away. The classes were going well, so I decided to go away on a ‘boot camp wilderness’ weekend. The blind date went even better so we decided to meet up again next time he was in town. These two things collided with mortifying results.
The boot camp weekend lasted from late Friday to Sunday. As he was in town from Saturday to Sunday, we agreed that he would meet me when I was dropped off from my trip, take me home to shower and then we would go out for dinner.
The weekend was pretty hardcore and the Sunday involved being dragged out of bed at 5.30 a.m. for a very tough workout which led on into other tasks, ending with a sniper exercise where we were required to cover our faces in camouflage cream. It was a blazing hot day and I started to feel really dehydrated. By the time we got on the bus for the hour long journey home, I could feel a migraine coming on. We arrived at the drop off point I felt very, very ill, had started hallucinating and was positive I was going to throw up.
There was my lovely date waiting for me in his car, laughing as he saw me dishevelled, my face still covered in camoflage cream. I opened the car door and was about to tell him I felt really ill when I projectile vomited (with, in reflection, an impressive amount of force). I managed to avert my head just in time but sadly did NOT manage to prevent myself losing total control of my bladder and bowels (in pale khaki pants and a thong) at the same time. I was almost too ill to feel horrified but his look said it all.
Being the gentleman, he drove me home with a plastic trash bag on the seat of his car then dropped me off saying he would call to ensure I was better. Further, being the gentleman he did not mention any of this to his sister, my co-worker. However, the mid-afternoon trinity of vomit, bladder and bowels and the fact that he had to drive me home with my pants soaked to the knees and all the attendant odours was obviously way way too much because I haven’t heard from him since.
