And I thought I had a hang over.

My cuz and I decided to go downtown Vancouver to do some shopping on New Year's Day, so we jumped on the bus from Kitsilano that would take us over the Granville Bridge. The bus, not very full, seemed to have more people at the front, so following the unspoken rule of transit diffusion, we made our way to the back.

I got a little overheated, as I was dressed for a winter's day in the Yukon, so I started unbundling. Vaguely aware of my fellow passengers, I'm sure I still knew there was a man to the right of me; a couple of girls to the left of me; there I was, stuck in the middle with them. Suddenly, I heard a noise that sounded, well, like what, I don't know. But my fight-or-flight responses had a pretty good idea that I had to get outta there, so I started running to the front of the bus.

Tracy, looking up at me, wondering where I was going, turned to the man that had been sitting beside me. I was a little embarassed with my mad dash to the front of the bus, cause it looked like the man had simply spilled his coffee. So I snuck back to sit myself beside my cousin, and I asked her, "Did he just puke?"

"I dunno; he may have just spilled..." And then the smell hit us. And then I felt like I was going to puke. So we went to the very front of the bus.

The puke man, quite embarassed, gets up and makes a friendly announcement. "Escuse me! I just threw up all over myself! Does anyone have a napkin?!" he shouted, as he walked up and down the aisle, starting a new game of transit diffusion: one that, instead of bearing resemblance to common courtesises at the urinal, resembled a dutch oven and a can of beans.

Thankfully, Trace made the call to get off at the next stop, and to catch the next bus. It's good we did, cause we later saw the bus drive by, decommissioned, and the puke man walk by, slightly stinky, but mostly ashamed.