Allergic

Having explained about the bird suit, I'll now talk about the time I almost threw up in it. It was midsummer, and the AC for the restaurant was on the fritz. Just having to walk around everyone had a thin layer of sweat coating them. The only perk to being the bird was a free meal. So on a day I was scheduled I came in early and got a shrimp plate, eating in the back while reading. The kitchen back room was the only place that was cool, so it was delightful to just sit and relax before my shift.

I finished lunch and my buddy appeared, so we started getting me fitted into the monstrosity, and already sitting in the back room I felt too hot. Most of the birds would makeshift ice packs to hang inside the suit with them, but I've never been able to stand ice against my skin, so I told my buddy I'd be fine without them. Plus some of time when they use ice packs you can see water dripping and it makes Red look incontinent.

So we start walking around the restaurant, my buddy even makes me go out onto the patio and the air is so hot in the suit I can barely breathe. My mouth is open and gasping, and she whisked me back inside but not before I start feeling nauseous. None of the hosts are allowed to sit on the benches up front during their shift, but the bird is allowed. I plopped down, staying very still, focusing on not throwing up. After a little it becomes clear to me that I need to vomit, but I can't muster the strength to tell my buddy, since you need to speak very loudly to be heard. The idea of tightening my stomach muscles to raise my voice seems equivalent to climbing seven mount Everest's in succession.  After ten minutes of sitting my buddy leaned down and asked, "Red, are you okay? You aren't moving much." Moving the head takes a lot of effort, but slowly I managed to give it a slow shake. My buddy's eyes widened, "Do you feel sick?" A tiny nod. She grabbed my hand and hauled me like a small child into the back, motioning servers to clear the way. We make it to the back and I rip the head off and grab the closest garbage can and start dry heaving over it.

While I was occupied my buddy went and got our manager. They came in while I was retching and I looked up at him in misery. "Get outta there. We'll let you do some quizzes so you still get all the hours." I could have kissed him. I got out of the suit, and I swear I could see my body steaming in the cooler air of the kitchen.

My buddy and I sat and did menu quizzes for the remaining hour, which is just to keep up knowledge of current special items. I felt fine, and I was grateful I didn't lose my dinner. So we both take off. I got in my car but I still had an odd feeling in my stomach, so I decided to take surface roads home rather than get on the freeway. I drove for a little, and I'm on this little back road when it becomes appallingly clear that I'm going to throw up. I sit up hopefully sizing up my window only to realize I'm too short to stick my head out of it while still driving competently.

I look desperately for a turn off, and as I see a right turn, I open the door and stick my head out and lose something violently pink. I look up. I'm driving into a tiny industrial complex, with no one around. I stop and throw up more, but in that incoherent way of sick people I am fixated on the idea that I need to park in a parking spot, not the middle of the lot. There were streaks and loops of bright pink over this parking lot before I was done. Parked, and safe, I leaned out fully and realized two things. As soon as I was parked I was done, and while I'd done an admirable job getting my head out the door, I'd still managed to foul the driver side door storage space.

Cue Isaac. At that point I was rooming with him, and it was clear I wasn't safe to drive. The call went something like this:

Isaac: Hello?
Me: I'm sick.
Isaac: Where are you?
Me: I don't know, I was throwing up when I turned in.
Isaac: I'm on my way.

I got off the phone then started getting a little more coherent. I called back to tell him what was around me. He showed up with his mom and she gave me the water bottle she'd brought along, and a bowl, and drove my soiled car home for me. I was sick for the rest of the night, and everyone chalked it down to the heat in the suit unsettling my stomach.

But a few weeks later I became violently ill after some shrimp sushi, so my best guess is I'm actually allergic to shrimp. I'll never know though, allergy testing is pricey as hell.