First Time in 18 Years

A word of warning: trying to eat an entire stick of butter may cause discomfort, followed by vomiting. That's what happened to me. I'm not sure how I got trapped in the butter-consumption contest, but I think Luke appealed to my pride and competitive spirit. It didn't hurt that I am a known lover of all things butter. (Real butter, please. If God had intended for us to eat margarine, we wouldn't have to come up with clever slogans and brand names to sell the stuff.)

But this isn't just a gross story. It was a moment of significance in my life. I never vomit. Correction: I rarely throw up.

The last time I tossed my cookies was just over 18 years ago. It was a Friday afternoon in early October 1986. I had a slice of Canadian bacon and pineapple pizza for lunch along with my first (and last) soy burger. I'd had trouble with hot flashes and dry heaves all through the last three periods of the school day, including a couple false alarms. It finally resolved itself as I stepped off the bus and into my front yard.

Of course, the house was locked. I cleaned out my mouth with blades of grass and water from the dog's bowl while I waited for my mom to get home. But I lived.

For years, I've used this story as a kind of conversation-starter.

"Really? Well, the last time I threw up was on a sunny Friday afternoon in October of 1986 . . ."

Now, I have a topper, a story I'll pull out if someone regales us with his own ralphing record. And I hope this one will be good for at least another 18 years. Because even if you get a good story out of the experience, vomiting just isn't worth it.