Thank God for "Air Bags"!

#16: A Traveler Battles Airsickness with a Bag

"Oh dear God, let this be over," was what I kept on repeating as soon as the plane started its descent. With only two hours of sleep the night before, a really early morning (come on, I consider it a personal crime to get out of bed before 7 a.m.), and a dizzying 20-minute ride to the airport with my mother who, for some reason, loves stepping on the brakes so much, I was practically set up to be airsick.

So there I was - having flown to numerous places at numerous times, but never once dreading the lift off or the landing of my flight, finding myself closing my eyes ever so tightly and asking the Lord to let the 1-hour plane ride end soon. So much sooner. 15 minutes tops was my request.

My colleague Rach was compelled to introduce me to the barf bag. Eww. I shook my head and dismissed the thought as too disgusting. I covered my face with my hands. Rach brought out her cologne. (To mask the smell, she says. Yeesh.) 30 seconds of air pockets, and the barf bag was my dearest friend. No, I didn't throw up but I did get to do that whole asthma bit - breathe in and out with the bag to my face, completely scaring the wits out of my companion. (She probably already started rehearsing her spiel to my parents: "She was keeping herself from throwing up and ended up having a heart attack.")

I apparently survived the flight with my dignity intact and Rach's cologne unused. The paper bag is unscathed. It is now part of my Cebu souvenirs. Regarding the wits that got so freaked they left, well, we found some of them hiding in the overhead bin and some, by the in-flight magazines... amongst airsickness bags.