sir, it's only a tomato

i recently decided to repurchase (for the third time) my favorite shins' album "chutes too narrow." and inevitably, as i listen to it and jam out, a story comes to mind.

it was end of the spring semester, and andrew had come to pick me up with his little neon. for some reason, we both thought that there was no way in hell i had a lot of stuff. but there it was. a pile of random crap that i had accrued throughout the year: cans of peaches, several buckets filled with pens, post-it notes, a lamp that should have gotten recalled, a duffel bag, a mini fridge, hawaiian print sheets, a giant polar bear, several tumblers, several semesters worth of books, sketchbooks, and alcohol that hadn't been opened. there was also a decent rug that was left on the corner venable and high st. right across from the weird guy who was stabbed my first year at longwood. you know, the guy who waved to us. anyways, we grumbled, fought, and managed to shove all of my belongings into his neon. the polar bear ended up riding up front with me. along with one of the buckets with assorted trash.

we stopped somewhere in orange...this amazingly cramped and sweet town. sweet looking, i should say. i had a sandwich with tomatoes. andrew had something else. i was happy. estatic. i was getting the hell out of the south. staying with people i cared about. yadda, yadda, yadda. andrew was driving like a fucking maniac. and i got really sick. so sick i made him pull the boat over so i could puke out tomatoes. and everything else that was in that sandwich.

it should be noted here that andrew does not deal with vomit or vomiters. so instead of holding my hair back or rubbing my back or do whatever it is that people are supposed to do, he looked away and covered his nose.

as i had my head hanging out the car door, i looked to the right and saw flashing cop lights and a cop with a flashlight walking towards me (it should also be noted that i have a very uneasy relationship with the police and any kind of law enforcement...even if one of my good friends is a cop.) he, of course, starts pointing that damn flashlight in my face and in andrew's face. asks if we've been drinking, yadda yadda. and then. he goes for it, he takes a whiff of my vomit - doesn't smell anything but tomatoes. and lets us go on our way. and we do. we head home and go do something we weren't supposed to do. but i felt weird, even now i feel weird about the entire thing.

this experience was a) the first time i'd been pulled over and not actually done anything wrong and b) when i developed car motion sickness. since then, it seems i'm pulled over (or the person i'm with)...(or the person who is with me) is pulled over or taken aside on an annual/biannual basis.

and this is the memory that first pops into my head when i put on the shins.