Black Friday

Sooooo, remember how I am kind of an awkward person? Well, I feel like I haven't shared an awkward story in a while, so buckle down and grab the popcorn, because here it comes.

I had the opportunity to drive home, from Idaho, for Thanksgiving. I love home, and I love my family, so of course I jumped on this chance. The drive there was wonderful, and Thanksgiving was great. I woke up, helped with dinner, chatted with family, listened to Adele, laid on the couch with my pants unbuttoned, the whole thing. 

However, what happened the next day will live with me forever. I awoke on this year's Black Friday feeling well rested and well fed. Life was good, great even. Then, when I walked downstairs, my little brother threw up. That was fine, whatever, shake it off. 

Until he threw up again. And I mean, projectile vomited all over the counter and the floor. It was nasty, and chunky, and all around the color brown. And being the awesome older sister I am, I cleaned it up. That's what you do when you love people, you clean up the gross bodily fluids that come out of their mouths for a disturbing second trip. 

After that, we decided to go shopping after all the crazies would be gone (we are no longer fans of early morning shopping, for which I blame Black Friday shopping in Utah). We, as a family minus the sick little brother and my dad, went to the mall, and basically walked into a part of Heaven when Old Navy was 50% off. Seriously, it was the best thing of that day and it was beautiful and I wish I could go back. 

So really, the day began on a great note. OLD NAVY, MY FAVORITE STORE, WAS HAVING THIS HUGE SALE. What could go wrong? 

And that is when I felt it. A low, slow rumble in my stomach. I ignored it, and went about the rest of my day. 

By about 7:00 that night, I was feeling gross, and I mean, wanna be wrapped up in a blanket and left on the floor gross. But then my mom said these two magical words to me: Hobby Lobby. Guys, I love Hobby Lobby. I am not a crafty person, but I love crafty looking things, so Hobby Lobby is my place. I consider it one of my top ten happy places, preceded by the temple, home, Deseret Book, Target, and Old Navy. So, yeah, I chose to go to Hobby Lobby. I wrapped myself up in my blanket, claimed the front seat of my sister's car, and off we went. 

Seeing the store sign caused a glow in my heart, a flicker of hope in my eyes as I forgot the worries of school and finals and the inevitable future. None of that mattered, not now that I was here. I left my blanket in the car, because I'm an adult, and followed my mom, sister, and niece into the best store. 

Then, it hit me. I was searching for a printables book, and after finding and grabbing it, I felt it. It. You know what I am talking about, that feeling. That feeling you get deep in your stomach and in the middle of your throat when you know you are about to lose all of your stomach, and not through the bottom half. I quickly found my mom and sister, handed them the book, and asked where the bathroom was. 

"The front of the store," my sweet, innocent mother said.

I ran. Actually, it probably was not running, but it was a very fast walking pace, like those grandmas you see at the gym. 

I could see the bathroom sign, never before had a blue sign with a woman in a dress looked so beautiful to me in my entire life. I was in the middle of the Christmas aisle, surrounded by ornament and decorated, lighted trees, when it happened. 

I threw up.

I tried to stop it, using my hands to block it from escaping my mouth, but it was like a waterfall, or Miley Cyrus, it couldn't be stopped. Due to my inability to be coordinated, and just being dealt with poor luck, it somehow went up my nose, onto my glasses, and still all over the floor and my clothes. 

I was a mere two yards away from the one place it is okay to throw up in. Filled with shame and embarrassment, I approached two workers, covered in my own bile, and informed them that I had thrown up. 

However, my family was not finished shopping, so I walked around the beautiful store covered in vomit and smelling awful. The workers were talking about it on their fancy walkie-talkies, and the one worker who knew it was me kept asking if I was pregnant. I assured her I was not, and then she laughed. 

They ended up blocking off that area, barricading it with cardboard gates that read, in large red letters "DO NOT ENTER". 

So, there you have it. Sometimes bad things happen to decent people in their favorite stores, but at least I had a funny story to share when it was over.