GETTING MORE TALE #686: Puke!
Almost everybody hates puking. It’s one of the most unpleasant bodily functions, and everyone does it. Especially rock stars! I remember reading an interview with the rock band Kix in Hit Parader magazine. On the subject of tour stories, one of the guitarists was sick during one show. He had a puke bucket at side stage, but he missed and the puke ended up hitting an electric fan, which splattered the vomit all over the drummer. “But he felt better for about half a song!”
On the less funny side, too many rock stars died after choking on their own vomit. Jimi Hendrix and John Bonham come to mind. It’s a tragic way to go, when the rock and roll lifestyle eats its own young. Unfortunately the lessons are not always learned and rock and roll continues to be littered with tragedy.
But let’s keep it light this time.
I have always been a power-puker. I wake up the neighborhood. I’ve never puked on stage like the guy from Kix, but I do have a couple rock and roll stories.
At Sausagefest several years ago, I pushed it one step too far. Not with alcohol, but with food. That last sausage was a little undercooked and it didn’t feel right in my stomach. I was OK though the Saturday night countdown, and I went to bed after the music ended. I slept in my car that year, and I started feeling sick after a very brief sleep.
I woke up and I knew I was going to puke. I got out the car and walked towards the middle of the field. I didn’t want to puke near anybody’s tent. I could hear that some of the guys were still up and partying, but I couldn’t see anything. And then, I released the hounds:
“You OK there buddy?” I could hear Tom asking from somewhere in the dark.
“Yeah I just ate too much,” I responded as I recovered. “Can you get me a bottle of water from my car?”
Tom made sure I was OK, and I slept great after that. I have no idea how late those guys stayed up, but I know that some years I have woken up in the morning only to find Uncle Meat and Bucky still hadn’t gone to sleep! There I was going for my morning shit, and these guys were still hanging by the fire.
It happened again a few years later, after Thanksgiving dinner at the cottage. I blame my mom for this one. She laid out way too much food, including tables full of chocolate and candy. As I did at Sausagefest, I ate too much. I woke up in the middle of the night again, knowing I was going to puke. I didn’t want to wake anyone in that small cottage so I went outside to the back yard. Then, once again, I released the evil from my stomach.
I walked back into the cottage to find that I did in fact wake everyone, despite my best efforts not to.
Here’s the funny thing. In both cases, the puddle of puke was gone in the morning. Eaten by wild animals? Hope they enjoyed the meal!