Don’t Change The World, Change Someone’s World

I see this a lot on animal rescue sites.  “You may not be changing the world, but you’re changing someone’s world.”  Or something along the lines of “They may be part of your world, but you’re all of their world.”

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to change the world.  My personal philosophy is, “If you have the ability to change the world, you have an obligation to do so.”  However, when I say this, I mean positively.

 

When I was in middle and high school, I would go on mission trips.  I went to New Orleans after Katrina to gut out houses.  I went to South Dakota and worked in soup kitchens and played with disabled kids at a children’s hospital.  After school, I tutored kids who had just immigrated to Minnesota and helped them do their homework so they could be successful.  I even helped give private oboe lessons to a freshman when I was a senior, making discounted reeds for oboes so that they didn’t sound like a duck when they played.

 

For me though, this was never enough.  I kept thinking, “I’m not changing the world, I’m just doing a few good things.”

 

When I was on the speech team in high school, my last two years I was in the Original Oratory category, which is persuasive speaking.  Many of the kids in this category had similar views as I did in terms of changing the world.  However, while their speeches were more along the lines of “The News is horribly biased,” and “We should boycott Walmart.” My speech was “Being gay is genetic, stop discriminating.”  True story, it was called, “Do these genes make me look gay?”

 

Quite different, right?  I had the issue of having conservative judges who would rank me last when my content was fantastic.  While I procrastinated with some of the writing and memorizing, I still was an alternate to go to the state tournament.  I would tell people being bigoted that being hateful was counterproductive and that we should accept people for who they are.

gay flag

I was bullied as a kid and I refused to stop being super weird because I was perfect just the way I was.  Currently, I continue to be weird because I am proud to be really fucking weird.

 

However, my philosophy began to change after doing the speech about accepting LGBTQ for the way they are.

 

I had this topic the entire three month season, and my first tournament there was a girl that I was in a round with.  I don’t quite remember what her speech was about, but it was something about social injustice, just as mine was.  She was super friendly to me, she went to a rural school while I went to the largest high school in Minnesota.  She was super chill, and after that tournament, I didn’t see her again until the Sectional Tournament for the Northern Metros.

 

She was in my third round before the final round, and after I gave my (much more polished) speech, we all shook hands at the end and as I was going back to my school’s team, she tracked me down and asked to talk to me privately.

 

I remember the conversation almost verbatim, so here’s how it went.

 

“Leah, right?  I don’t know if you remember me, but we were at the St Michael’s tournament together.”

 

“Oh yeah!  How’ve you been?  Your speech was great.”

 

She smiled and continued to talk.  “I was hoping to see you since our schools didn’t really compete against each other this season, and I wanted to thank you.”  She saw my confusion and began to explain.  “You see, I’m bi and I was in the closet until after you gave your speech that first time.  For the past two years I was trying to find a way to not be bi anymore, but no matter what I was attracted to guys and girls, and my parents were really homophobic.”

 

I was stunned.  She seemed so happy whenever I saw her.  She went on.

 

“But after your speech, I got the courage to come out to my mom.  She used to say that Bi-people were just trying to slice up the pie in their favor, so to speak.  She said bis were just greedy, the worst of the gay community.  When I came out as bi, I used some of your stats and explained it to her.  It went really well.  My family accepted me so much better.  So I just wanted to say thanks.  Keep it up.”

 

We hugged and I went to my table, stunned.  I told my friends but we were all waiting to find out who would go into the final round.  Luckily, I made the final round and got fifth place, but at that moment I didn’t care.

 

I changed her world for the better.

 

I still think of that moment to make myself feel better when I feel like my life is falling to pieces.

 

In college, I saw a guy whose car broke down on the side of the road.  I picked him up, drove him to his house so he could get the stuff to put gas in his car, and he thanked me nonstop.  I ran into him a while later and he bought me coffee to say thanks.  Never saw him again.

 

Last year I let a Chinese girl who was new to the country and terrified stay in my home when I didn’t even know her.  Just so you guys know, she and I message on skype at least once a month.

 

I adopted two dogs who were at the pound.

 

When my uncle was dying, I did my best to make him comfortable and help his family.

Mark and I

I love you, Uncle Mark.  I miss you more every day.

My current job is working in a group home with people who have suffered emotional trauma.  They’re difficult at times, but I love my job and I love when I see them happy.

 

I’m not trying to get credit for being a good person. In fact, I consider myself selfish because I do all of this to make myself feel better.

 

Our world has been on the brink of destruction for thousands of years.  But a few good deeds can make all of the difference.

 

I’m not trying to change the world anymore.  I’m trying to change the world of those whose world needs changing.  And if everyone tried to do this, this world would be such a better place.

 

So I guess I still am trying to change the world.  One person at a time.

 

What good deeds do you do?  What have you done to change the world?  Let me know in the comments!

shocked face

The Duggar’s Are Innocent… I guess?

I had to go to Dallas for training for two weeks when I started working at the ticket counter.

The system we used was from the fucking stone age and it was hundreds of codes that were very finicky and they made me cry nearly every day.  So I requested to go to training since the person training me was absolutely useless.  My manager agreed, so off I drove to Dallas for two weeks of intense classroom training.

I was one of the younger people in my class and every other class I had taken, I had made some great friends.  Usually my classes involved me going to the bar every night or drinking in hotel rooms with six other people who I still keep in contact with, and have several pictures with.

But this two week class was the bane of my existence.  I didn’t make any friends in this class and I almost got fired by the end of the class because one girl took everything personally.

This girl was from Arkansas and she was… Oh, how do I put it?  She was a girl who seemed like she needed daddy to survive.  She was sick nearly every day, and while I was battling a horrible lung infection for the majority of this training, I understood.  She seemed nice at first, she even sat with me and invited me to the bar a couple of times.  But I had declined because I was certain I was dying and I ended up having to go to Urgent Care. I had lost complete use of my right lung because of how swollen it was in my chest.  Not pneumonia though, surprisingly.  But it was the sickest I had ever been, and I did not miss one minute of class.

gas mask

How awesome is this mask?  Seriously?  I really needed it too.  

My first lunch at the training center I was sitting with a flight attendant who was super funny.  She was great.  And the Arkansas girl sat next to me.  She had been talking to me that morning, letting me know that she was a Razorback, she was working on her third college degree in an advanced science.  If she was telling the truth, I will say that she was incredibly intelligent.  And when she spoke to me, she talked to me like she was highly intelligent, which I really respected.  However, after five minutes of talking to her, all I could think is how immature she was.  Some people are just really immature, and that’s fine, but it actually got on my nerves.

And if anyone reading this has read my blog, they know that I am, in no way, mature.

When she sat with me and the FA at lunch, I introduced her as a new hire who was “stupid smart.”

I said “stupid smart” because she was so highly intelligent.  I meant no disrespect.  I thought it was a compliment.  Apparently it was not.

Now, this girl had a very poised look whenever she heard something she didn’t like.  She would look straight ahead, bite the bottom left corner of her mouth, and take a deep breath.

The reason I remember this so specifically is because I saw it a few times and this damn look nearly got me fired.

resting bitch face

Suspiciously like this, actually.  I think she just had a great resting bitch face

I tried to be friendly with this girl, I really did.  She and I had a lot of shared interests, but something about this girl just screamed,”I’m just so lucky because daddy takes care of me.”  I don’t know if it’s true or not, but a lot of youth I had met in the south had daddy giving them money to chase their dreams before settling down and doing the good southern thing of getting married and having a thousand fucking babies.  For all I knew she was just a full time student.  It was over a year ago and the details about her are kind of fuzzy.

The straw that broke the camels back was three days before the end of class.  I was not awake yet.  My lung infection was starting to subside, but I still had a fever and I was taking a handful of prescribed pills in order breathe.  I was missing Alex, I was feeling considerably lonely since I didn’t really bond with anyone in the class at all.  I just wanted to go home.  So badly.

This, mixed with my intolerance for complete and utter bullshit at 7 AM caused word vomit to spew from my mouth.

This girl liked to be the center of attention.  Which is fine… most of the time.  She invited me to sit with her and half the class for breakfast, and I didn’t even have coffee in me yet.  She began to talk about how she had watched her friend’s wedding she was in on TV the night before.

She said that it was the most beautiful wedding and she saw herself as one of the bridesmaids and that it was just a match made in heaven and perfect in every way.

I looked at her and said, “Oh, what TV family?”

She gave me the look and said, “I don’t know if I should tell you.”

I shrugged.  “I was just curious, who you’re friends with is none of my business.”

“It was one of the Duggar weddings.”

“Cool.”

I was pretty disinterested and went back to my coffee.  But then she went on and on about how the Duggar’s are never acting.

“How they act on TV is how they act in real life.  There’s no difference.  They’re just great people all around.”

This was one week before the sex scandal, folks.

Now, my half asleep, drug induced conscious of sickness, homesickness, and overall exhaustion from not having a comfortable bed for two weeks hit me.  I blurted out, “Oh, so they’re bigots in real life too?”

I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.

The entire table went silent.  Two people dropped their silverware.  Everyone’s jaw dropped.

shocked face

WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

In my home state, with my own friends anywhere, this would have gotten a laugh.  This would have gotten an applause for timing.  But I wasn’t in my home state.  I wasn’t with my friends.  I was in a strange place with strange people who had deep roots in the deep south.  For one of the first times in my life, I felt like a true outcast who had truly and really fucked up and I realized it as soon as the words left my lips.

As rehearsed, Arkansas looked straight ahead, biting the bottom corner of her mouth before giving a calculated response.

“They’re not bigots.  It’s their christian belief and they can express it any way they want,” she said to me in a cold, calm manner.  And I don’t blame her.  In fact, I commend her for how calmly and politely she responded.  She had far more tact and grace than I had or ever will have.

I did apologize as soon as I said it.  “That came out far harsher than I had intended,” I said.  “I’m sorry.  I just don’t agree with most of their actions.”

She didn’t say anything more to me.  She didn’t have to.  I excused myself, grabbed my coffee, and went to the class.

I was later pulled out of the class and had a briefing on how hurtful my comments were and how I was being incredibly disrespectful.  While I technically didn’t say anything that could fire me, and thank god I didn’t make a comment on the “Christianity” side of the Duggar’s reactions, I was let off with a warning.  If I would have criticized the Christian-like tendencies of the Duggar’s and argued religion, I would have been unemployed and sent back to Louisiana.

But I wasn’t.  This girl and I avoided each other like the plague the rest of the class.

The last day of class though, I went up to her and shook her hand.  I told her that I felt she would do well in our industry, and I drove home.  I never saw or heard from her again.  I have no idea if she still works there.

A week later the sex scandal happened and I didn’t feel nearly as bad.

I said a number of things those two weeks that were unwarranted.  Mostly she talked about how the few times she had worked the counter, she had really nice passengers.  And in that part of Arkansas, I had really good luck with people too. I drove through the town she worked in several times whenever I drove to Minnesota.  I had stayed in that town several times over the past three years.  Of any place in the deep south, that particular area was a very nice, very welcoming area that really embraced the “Southern Hospitality” mentality that I never really got in Louisiana.

Where I worked, however, I had people threatening to kill me every day.  I had drinks thrown in my face.  And when I had someone telling me how easy the job was and how everyone was sweet and nice all the time, I did laugh.  A lot.

Because she hadn’t experienced the hell that bad weather brings.

So, Arkansas girl, if you ever do read this, I mean it when I say “I respect your opinion and I’m sorry for disrespecting you.”

To the Arkansas Girl, I’m fairly certain you’ll never read this, but if you do, I will say I commend you on how tactful you responded and I do have great respect for you, even though I completely and whole heartily disagree with you.  I wish you the best of luck.

Have you ever had an experience where your mouth got you into trouble?  Have you ever had an instance where you were called a bigot for calling out crazy behavior?  Ever deal with difficult people? Let me know in the comments

 

 

Apparently I’m A Wizard

Shreveport was a common airport for airplanes to randomly land at in case any airports in Texas threatened bad weather or someone sneezing.

There were times where we would get 10+ aircraft landing at the airport and I would end up working an 18 hour shift and have to return in six hours to work another 10 hours to play catch up.

There were days where my job was a total and complete nightmare.

And then there were days where I was actually on the local news.  No joke.  I was on the news twice.  National news once.

Not even slightly kidding.

However I was pretty blurry and I had glasses on and my hair in a bun, so there’s a very slim chance any of you realized it was me.

We had an instance where we had flights divert to Shreveport, and our regular flights would come in and cancel, or our outbound flights would cancel due to a single snowflake landing nearby.

 

Because heaven forbid the south deal with snow.

Okay, I’m not being fair.  For someone not raised in cold weather, it can be terrifying.  My coworker didn’t know that cold weather can make your tires look deflated, so when he was going to come into work when it was 10 degrees outside, he called and said he couldn’t come in because all four of his tires were flat from how cold it was.  I told him that once he started driving they would become round again and back to normal, but he didn’t believe me because he was over twice my age and heaven forbid someone half his age knew something.

Ugh.

Anyway, I have a common theme with my airline job posts.

I dealt with a lot of crazy people.

Like, you have no idea.

People think I’m a fucking wizard, for instance.

We actually had really bad weather one day.  There was a tornado that was visible from the windows of the front of the airport.  Not close enough to cause severe damage to where I was at, but we could actually see the tornado.  So naturally the flights cancelled.

I had a woman who said she was a doctor and she shoved her way to the front of the line, telling me she was a doctor and that I had to un-cancel the flight because she had patients waiting for her.

I explained to her that there was a tornado and that it was a safety consideration since tornadoes have habits of completely fucking up aircraft.

“But I’m really important and I have to get on a plane today!  You have to get a plane out!”

“No, I don’t, because I don’t control the skies.  It’s a safety concern, ma’am, I can’t help you.”

Well, one flight did not cancel and it was the very last flight of the night.  And this flight had 52 people booked for a 50 seater plane.  This flight was severely oversold.  And this happens a lot when there’s bad weather.  It’s unavoidable.  This lady was standing to the side and was on the phone trying to make arrangements when I made the mistake of doing my job and checking in a passenger.  When she saw me checking him in, she literally shoved this guy away from the counter and started to scream at me.

“HOW COME HE GETS TO FLY AND I DON’T?!”

“Because his flight didn’t cancel, yours did.”

“Well take his ass off the flight and put me on the flight.  I’m a doctor!  I’m far more important than him!”  This guy just looked at her flabbergasted.

“I have to work too, you know,” the guy had said.

“Yes but you’re not saving peoples lives.  I am.  Therefore I’m more important.”

You’re probably thinking I’m exaggerating this story, and I’m really not.  I had people tell me all the time how they’re more important.  It pisses me off.

“Ma’am, I can try to put you on standby, but the flight is oversold so I won’t be able to get you on the flight.”

Oh this pissed the dragon lady off.  She continued to scream at me and tell me how I must not care about dying children because that’s who she was saving and that if she didn’t get out of Louisiana those children were going to die.

“I’m sorry ma’am, I left my magic wand at home so I can’t fix the weather.”

My friend told me this line, and I loved it so much and I had so little fucks left to give so I told this lady that exact line.  Her jaw dropped, but I think the realization of how little I was able to do finally dawned on her.

I never saw her again.

Have you ever dealt with people who thought they were better than you?  Have you ever used a magic wand to change the weather?  Let me know in the comments!  DISCUSS SOMETHING PLEASE!

Also, Alex has started his own blog.  If you want to read about how being an adult while working out and being a super nerd is working out, click here and read about his shenannigans of his ambitions to be a viking god

 

Tales of ANOTHER Crazy Biatch

Guess what guys?  I can finally tell you what my job was in Louisiana.

I was a ticket agent for an airline.  That’s right, I was one of those people.  I also worked the ramp and the baggage service office.  Occasionally the gate.

So guess what?  If you ever got stuck in Shreveport for any reason, you probably saw me and I probably had a super fake smile and told you about why there’s no way I can change the weather.  I also probably got drunk after my shift bitching about how passengers are total fucking idiots.

But don’t worry, I was a terrible passenger until I worked for the airlines.

 

My first story, which I think will set the tone for all of you, is about how crazy passengers can get.

 

I typically worked the late night shift or the early morning.  My favorite part of the job was working in the Baggage Service Office, or BSO for short.  This job required me to sit at a desk and help people find their lost bags, as well as replace broken bags.  I thoroughly enjoyed this job.  It was the best job.  You know why?

I got to go through people’s stuff.

I was legally bound to go through suitcases and document the contents. This job was perfect for me because I’m incredibly nosy and I love to see what kind of lies people come up with.  They’ll tell me when I’m taking the claim that they have a five thousand dollar gift (this actually happened) and when I opened the bag, it was just dirty clothes.  Those dirty clothes must have been expensive though.

 

So one night, a week before Alex graduated from Airman Leadership School, which is a huge accomplishment by the way, I had a crazy passenger.  Definitely not my craziest, but she makes the top ten hands down.  The main problem I had with this crazy bitch is she looked suspiciously like the original Crazy Biatch My friend and coworker T took the claim, and he pulled me aside to tell me the monstrosity of this particular passenger.

Apparently her car seat was a flight behind her.  She was yelling at him for the most part, telling him how inconvenient it was that her car seat was missing and there was nobody else who was missing a bag.  And how dare our airline miss a bag, because come on, we’re a big airline, of course we would never miss a bag. She then went on to tell him that she was going to get so many free flights from our airline because her car seat was missing.  We found a replacement to give her for the time being and filed a claim and told her that we could have it delivered.  She told T that she was going to come up here to get it because she wanted the airline to know how inconvenient they were being to make her come back to the airport at 10:30 at night.

Now, if you ever get into this situation, please remember that we are required to document everything you say so that when people try to get free stuff, they can refer to the file and realize that the person is being a pain in the ass.  This woman took the fucking cake.  She was the fucking pain in the ass of the week.

Fast forward to the last flight of the night.  My turn to work the bag office.  T comes with me to call the lady and let her know that her car seat had arrived.  Twenty minutes later she runs in, hoots and hollers about how inconvenient it was for her to drive up to the airport at nearly 11pm and that it wasn’t fair that she had to drive here to get her car seat when we could have delivered it (Can you believe this bitch?  I’m not even exaggerating).  She thanked us and left.  We were relieved.

Fast forward a week. Remember how I mentioned Alex’s Airman Leadership School Graduation?  I was at a table with a bunch of people a few ranks above Alex, as well as their wives.  Alex was asked to sing the national anthem and we had to take pictures with the commander.  There was a total of ten people at my table.

And sitting directly across from me was the crazy bitch.  These were assigned seats.  The universe fucking hated me this particular evening.

Now, you should all remember how much I love military functions.  After I pulled a big bottle of vodka out of my movie purse and started downing the drinks so I was nearly incoherent, Alex was up to sing the national anthem.

I video taped him, but if you listen really carefully, you can hear that bitch whispering in my ear about how my airline refused to give her a $1500 voucher for free flights because her car seat was missing.  Seriously, for over an hour, she was yelling at me when I was supposed to be supporting Alex at this god awful function.  I had a dress and heels on.  I had half a bottle of vodka in my system to tolerate this function, I had Master Sergeants asking me to share my vodka because they were veterans for these horrible things.  I was not at work, I was off the clock, and I consistently told her this, but she didn’t care.  She was pissed that her cars seat was a flight behind her and she wasn’t getting free tickets out of it.  She even traded seats with the person next to me so instead of me celebrating my husband’s huge accomplishment, I spent two hours listening to this crazy fucking bitch about how my company was unwilling to give her thousands of dollars over a car seat.

Then, at the end of the night, this bitch has the balls to ask me a question that caused me to choke on my drink.

“So, what’s the craziest story you have working with difficult people? Who was the craziest, most difficult person you’ve ever dealt with?”

Girl, you make my top ten list.

I’m Back!

To all of my readers, I know it has been several months since I’ve posted a real post, but fear not, for next week I will have returned to the northern climes of Minnesota, where I can finally tell everyone every story I have been holding back from my adventures working in the travel industry.

 

To give you all a sneak peak of what is to come…

I will tell you about my misadventures involving…

 

How I reacted when a woman showed me pictures of her fallen out vagina

How dealing with an 18 year old telling me I don’t understand true love

How going through peoples stuff was the main part of my job

How I dealt with people telling me that my vagina is the main reason why I should never be in leadership

Meeting a woman who sold all of her ex boyfriends stuff because he cheated on her, and I helped

And so many, many more.

 

So hold on to your seats, shit is about to get real.

 

 

I’m Not Dead… I think.

Hello bloggers and readers.

I know, it’s been months since I’ve been away, and It will likely be a few more months before I start overloading you all with crazy stories of how my Minnesotaness has completely rocked the southern states about.  I have so many stories to share, but I feel that since I have gotten a few emails from readers asking about when I would post next, I feel that maybe I should share a little of what has been going on that has prevented me from sharing these off the wall stories.

  1. I’m working on a Master’s degree.

Not only am I working over 40 hours per week recently, I’m also a full time student on a subject that has killed my brain in every way imaginable.  It hurts. So much.  But I’m learning a lot and I’m applying it to my job which I think is a plus in my favor.

  1. Alex is leaving the military

Alex has officially started out-processing out of the military, and we will be back up north within a few months.  So YAY! Snow! Ice! Coffee!  All of the things I’ve been lacking south of the mason Dixon line.  Additionally, we’ve had to start the moving process and figuring out how long my mom is willing to let us live in her basement.

  1. My uncle is dying

I know this one is kind of dark to share, but it’s something that has been having an extremely negative affect on me.  My uncle, my dad’s younger brother, who has, for my entire life, been my favorite uncle and I have nothing but great memories with, is losing his battle with brain cancer.  I was told recently that he won’t live for another year, we honestly thought he would be dead by the end of October.  I went to visit him for a week to help take care of him and it’s left me very shaken.  It’s hard enough to dealing with a family member passing, it’s especially hard to deal with a family member you really care about passing.  He’s still alive at this moment, but he’s not the strong, happy, care-free uncle of ten years ago.  Nor is he the uncle that would stay up late with me, watching a bon fire, telling me that I’m perfect no matter what and that he’s proud of me no matter what I do.  And it’s slowly killing my spirit.

  1. My work has sent me all over the country recently.

I work in travel, and I can reveal what industry I work in after I leave this job to explain how awesome my job is, and for the past two months I’ve been in southern Texas, West Virgiinia, Lousiana, and for my uncle, I’ve been in San Francisco.  I also go to Dallas for training quite a bit.  To say the least, I’ve been very busy.

  1. Sleep is overrated.

When I’m out of state for work, I’ve been averaging around 70 hours of work per week, plus about 20 hours of study time for school, so to say the least, I haven’t really slept a lot.  The reason I can post this today is because I slept for 18 hours, I think I was catching up for the past two months.

So there you have it. I’m pretty sure I’m not dead.  I miss writing, I miss talking with other bloggers, and most of all, I miss interacting with all of my readers.  I hope you’re all doing well, and in a couple of months, I’ll have tons of funny stories to tell of my adventures in travel, in life, and most importantly, in love.

Puking on the Titanic

So I briefly mentioned this happening once in an old blog post, but I was thinking about how hilarious this story was, and since I can’t talk about my job, I’m running low on awkward stories, so I’m going to start telling you all about my awkward childhood.

This should be fun.

Back when Alex and I first got married, right before we honeymooned in Vegas, Alex found a Titanic Exhibit.  He knows that I love everything titanic, from the movie to stupid books about how it all went down.  I find this stuff fascinating, and so when he brought up the exhibit to me, I casually told him a little something that baffled him.

“We should go!  Maybe I won’t throw up on the real piece again!”

The “again” was the part that caused a large amount of confusion, to say the least.  Most people don’t make mention of puking at a historical exhibit, much less puking at a historical exhibit again.  To which he gave me a very strange look and told me to elaborate.

When I was about ten years old, it was around when the Titanic movie came out.  I watched it every day after school for over a year, and even now, I can recite the entire movie.  Word for word.  Because I love useless information.

When scholastic released those book catalogues to students and there was a titanic book, I would beg my mom to buy it.  So I have tons of childrens books that are infographics for the Titanic.  My grandma got me a Titanic piggy bank that you push a lever and the butt end of it rises up so the coin slides into the front of the ship.  I wanted my name to be Rose because I wanted to find my own personal Jack.

I’m telling you, I was obsessed.

This shit is interesting

This shit is interesting

And even now, I still reread all of those books because I just find it so interesting.

My father, who felt left out with my Titanic obsession, had a friend who was helping run the Titanic Exhibit in St Paul.  Since it was educational, and his friend got him free tickets, he surprised me on his weekend with us that we would be going to the big Titanic Exhibition.  I was ecstatic.  Except for one thing.

My stomach hurt really badly.

I hadn’t been feeling well for a couple of days, and this particular day my stomach really hurt.  I told my dad this, but he insisted that if I walked around, my stomach would feel better.  Since I really wanted to see the jewelry of Molly Brown and even see a real piece of the Titanic, I swallowed my pride and tried to ignore my stomach.

We went to the exhibit and it was insanely interesting.  We got to see old suitcases, jewelry, clothes, tons of stuff salvaged from the ship.  However, every ten minutes or so, I’d have to sit down to keep anything that was in my stomach down because as the day wore on, I felt sicker.

My dad tried to tell me that I was imagining things, and I told him that I really needed to throw up.  He just shrugged it off, as most parents do.  Not going to lie, if it had been me looking at my child, I probably would have thought the same thing.

Then, the big finale of the trip, there was this big pool thing that had the real piece of the Titanic.  It had to remain underwater because of the rust, but it still had the windows in it and the air smelled of something.  To be honest, it’s too far long ago that I would remember.  I think it was salt water.

The piece I nearly threw up on, except that it's been sealed so it won't rust away into nothing.

The piece I nearly threw up on, except that it’s been sealed so it won’t rust away into nothing.

My brother and dad were standing on the rails, looking down on the piece of the ship and my dad was telling my brother about the rust issue with the ship and why it had to stay underwater.

This is when I couldn’t hold the contents of my stomach any longer.  I start pulling on my dad’s shirt, telling him I’m going to puke, to which he shooed my hand away, telling me that he’s busy telling my brother some information.  I start to wail a little bit, to which he snaps and tells me to keep quiet because he was talking.

Then I puked.

Everywhere.

There was so much puke.

And it hurt so badly.  I fell down while I was vomiting because of how violent the vomiting was.

This got my dad’s attention.

I remember him yelling at me, asking me why I didn’t tell him I was going to puke or why I wasn’t feeling good.

I tried to remind him that I did, but he just kept freaking out because tact is not his specialty.  I don’t think any puke actually got on the real piece, but I can’t be too sure.  It didn’t make the newspapers, but that would have been a great story to share.

I called my mom and asked her about this and she just sighed.  Yes, she remembered, no it wasn’t a weird dream.

So when I was in Las Vegas and I saw the real piece, I yelled, “I’M NOT PUKING ON YOU TODAY!”

And it was fun.

So there you have it.  My Titanic Puking Story.