The Worst Thing You Ever Threw Up

[Hostile]

Sports Illustrated's Rick Reilly wrote this some time back. I thought some might enjoy a laugh at his expense.

Now this message is for America 's most famous athletes:

Someday you may be invited to fly in the back-seat of one of your country'smost powerful fighter jets. Many of you already have. John Elway, John Stockton, Tiger Woods to name a few. If you get this opportunity, let me urge you, with the greatest sincerity...

Move to Guam.
Change your name.
Fake your own death!
Whatever you do.
Do Not Go!!!

I know.

The U.S. Navy invited me to try it. I was thrilled. I was pumped. I was toast! I should've known when they told me my pilot would be Chip (Biff)
King of Fighter Squadron 213 at Naval Air Station Oceana in Virginia Beach, VA.

Whatever you're thinking a Top Gun named Chip (Biff) King looks like, triple it. He's about six-foot, tan, ice-blue eyes, wavy surfer hair, finger-
crippling handshake -- the kind of man who wrestles dyspeptic alligators in his leisure time. If you see this man, run the other way. Fast.

Biff King was born to fly. His father, Jack King, was for years the voice of NASA missions.. ('T-minus 15 seconds and counting'. Remember?)

Chip would charge neighborhood kids a quarter each to hear his dad. Jack would wake up from naps surrounded by nine-year-olds waiting for him to say, 'We have liftoff'.

Biff was to fly me in an F- 14D Tomcat, a ridiculously powerful $60 million weapon with nearly as much thrust as weight, not unlike Colin Montgomerie.
I was worried about getting airsick, so the night before the flight I asked Biff if there was something I should eat the next morning.

'Bananas,' he said.

'For the potassium?' I asked.

'No,' Biff said, 'because they taste about the same coming up as they do going down.'

The next morning, out on the tarmac, I had on my flight suit with my name sewn over the left breast. (No call sign -- like Crash or Sticky or Leadfoot. But, still, very cool.) I carried my helmet in the crook of my arm, as Biff had instructed. If ever in my life I had a chance to nail Nicole Kidman, this was it.

A fighter pilot named Psycho gave me a safety briefing and then fastened me into my ejection seat, which, when employed, would 'egress' me out of the plane at such a velocity that I would be immediately knocked unconscious.
J
ust as I was thinking about aborting the flight, the canopy closed over me, and Biff gave the ground crew a thumbs-up. In minutes we were firing nose up at 600 mph. We leveled out and then canopy-rolled over another F-14.

The next 20 minutes were the rush of my life. Unfortunately, the ride lasted 80. It was like being on the roller coaster at Six Flags Over Hell.

Only without rails. We did barrel rolls, snap rolls, loops, yanks and banks.

We dived, rose and dived again, sometimes with a vertical velocity of 10,000 feet per minute. We chased another F-14, and it chased us.

We broke the speed of sound. Sea was sky and sky was sea. Flying at 200 feet we did 90-degree turns at 550 mph, creating a G force of 6.5, which is to say I felt as if 6.5 times my body weight was smashing against me, thereby approximating life as Mrs. Colin Montgomerie.

And I egressed the bananas.

And I egressed the pizza from the night before.

And the lunch before that.

I egressed a box of Milk Duds from the sixth grade.

I made Linda Blair look polite. Because of the G's, I was egressing stuff that I hadn't seen in years.

I went through not one airsick bag, but two.

Biff said I passed out. Twice. I was coated in sweat. At one point, as we were coming in upside down in a banked curve on a mock bombing target and the G's were flattening me like a tortilla and I was in and out of consciousness, I realized I was the first person in history to throw down.

I used to know 'cool'. Cool was Elway throwing a touchdown pass, or Norman making a five-iron bite. But now I really know 'cool'. Cool is guys
like Biff, men with cast-iron stomachs and freon nerves. I wouldn't go up there again for Derek Jeter's black book, but I'm glad Biff does every day, and for less a year than a rookie reliever makes in a home stand.

A week later, when the spins finally stopped, Biff called. He said he and the fighters had the perfect call sign for me. Said he'd send it on a patch for my flight suit.

What is it? I asked.

"Two Bags.”

Damn.

[Hostile]

Oh, and to answer the thread title question...Flaming Hot Cheetos.

Mama...

[hairic]

Pickles and milk.

BTW, the last time I vomited, I think I was 9 years old. I should get sick more often so I can have better vomit.

[SaltwaterServr]

Chicken enchiladas, about 8 hours ago. Up all damn night with them, and most of today.

[5Stars]

Here In Utah, Roy, UT...I live about 2 miles from Hill AFB, and worked for the Department of Defense for 23 years as a Mainframe computer programmer.

Many of us had the chance to meet a lot of pilots, and I can tell you...they are some of the smartest, bravest, confindent people in our Military. We met three lady pilots and one was SMOKING hot...she looked like a super Model...and these ladies and gentlemen flew F-16's.

I would not get into one of those things unless my life depended on it!!

Pilots are a one kinda of breed all by themselves.





The worse thing I ever threw up...beer. So, all you kids out there...DON'T DRINK!!

[Faerluna]

Milk. It takes barely any time at all to curdle and it is revolting coming up.

[TheCount]

Threw up about a months worth of tequilla on my 21st, that was not fun at all. My buddies started drinking before I got out of class at 7pm, so I tried to catch up before we hit the bars.

By 11pm I was laying on my back in the bushes outside the bar just trying not to spin off the planet. By 12am I was throwing up in a dumpster outside my dorm. By 1am I was fast asleep.

Shortest night out I've ever had for my birthday. At the very least it was efficient.

Since then, Jose Curevo and I haven't been on speaking terms.

I would say the second worst was throwing up bile, which tastes absolutely disgusting if you're wondering, after football practice in high school. I'm an idiot for practicing on an empty stomach. The worst thing about vomitting bile is that it's never just one and done, I probably puked 15 times. At one point just shifting my weight while laying down would send me scrambling for the bathroom.

[DA FAN]

My buddy threw up a whole birthday candle...

He got wasted at a birthday party..

Although I didnt see it (and wouldn't want to LOL) his wife swears that while she was helping him cleanup the mess, she saw the candle and asked "what the hell is this?"
It was a whole damx handle that he ate along with a piece of cake...

[CATCH17]

I've liked a gazillion times but Mcdonalds hamburger and French fries is the worst.

Taco bell is a close 2nd.

[WarC]

Shrimp, lobster and potatoes on New Years. Started the night out at about 7pm with Jagermeister. Didn't make it to midnight.

I remember I had invited some buddies over to party with us. They showed up at about 11pm while the ball was dropping on the east coast. I was infront of my bedroom TV, huddled over a garbage bag, depositing seafood. Gave some drunken appologies and then passed out. It was the only time in recent memory I didn't make it to midnight.

[WarC]

Originally Posted by CATCH17

I've liked a gazillion times but Mcdonalds hamburger and French fries is the worst.

Taco bell is a close 2nd.

Oh man....When I'm sick, even the smell of mcdonalds does awful things to me.

[Kangaroo]

jagermeister got way to drunk one night the last thing I drank was jagermeister it was the last think I tasted later that night I it and I could taste that jagermeister for like two days

[Danny White]

I have a variation... the best thing I ever threw up.

In college, my buddies and I agreed to empty an entire keg in one evening. I pounded about 20 beers in way too short a time. In the process, I downed an entire package of Oreos.

Later that evening, as I was bent over the toilet, I threw what could only be described as a beer-and-Oreo milkshake. Looking at it, all I could think was... "hey, Oreos." It was definitely the least offensive looking and smelling expulsion I ever had.

[WoodysGirl]

Recently? Food poisoning - ate bad chicken.. That crud made me curl up on the floor.

Not so recently? Too many margaritas with an extra patron shot mixed with several $2-you-call it drinks..

Threw up in the bar, on the side of the road, in my car with my head hanging out the window (yes, it flew back inside. My friend was not happy), all before I made it home to the porcelain god.

[CATCH17]

Originally Posted by WoodysGirl

Recently? Food poisoning - ate bad chicken.. That crud made me curl up on the floor.

Not so recently? Too many margaritas with an extra patron shot mixed with several $2-you-call it drinks..

Threw up in the bar, on the side of the road, in my car with my head hanging out the window (yes, it flew back inside. My friend was not happy), all before I made it home to the porcelain god.

Dang that sucks...

Every drinker has had those moments though.


I went to OU-Texas this year and was partying down there and I was good until our cab ride home. As soon as I stepped out of the cab I let loose.

I had 9 beers, 1 weak margarita, 1 gin and tonic, 3 tequila shots.

It was ovah after that.

Pounded some water before bed and was ready to go the next day.

I have a Vegas trip planned next month .