The first time I got sick while in Idaho was actually a pleasant experience, in that I didn't die. I currently am taking a shot that has a tendency to make me sick to my stomach, and on that fateful day I had also taken that shot, well, actually I had taken it the night before. I went about my morning as I normally would, by eating my cold cereal and going to class, and honestly nothing felt off, but then I got home from class. I baked a pizza for myself and sat down to eat two slices but ended up eating four. I mean, come on, I hadn't eaten since 6:45 in the morning and it was around 4:00 in the afternoon, so of course I'm going to eat a lot. I probably would have been fine, but then I went for a drive with my friends to go get hair dye. I, again, probably would have been fine, but my roommate was driving and she is a crazy driver. Love her, but crazy. We get to the store and I'm doing fine, then we head back home and I'm not doing fine.
"Go faster," I should have said, or even "pull over!" but I didn't, instead I suffered quietly in the back seat.
We finally arrived to the apartment complex, and I am proud of myself for not upchucking in the car, but I still had one more challenge to face: Walking to the bathroom. I start moving, slowly so I don't upset my stomach any more than it is already and I make my way to where the gravel meets the sidewalk.
Hhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
I threw up.
My other poor roommate, who had come along for the ride, heard me make a noise and was walking back to see what was happening.
"Em, I threw up."
Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuuu
I threw up again.
Had this just have been a intimate moment between me and my roommate, Em, it might have been a moment we could have kept secret through all eternity but no, there was a car parked right behind me with two girls sitting, watching.
 So, instead of dreading that day, I have decided to embrace it. I literally have left my mark of this apartment complex.