Cream Soda and Peppercinis Don't Mix

Warning: If you get easily nauseous or grossed out, scroll down and start reading the next blog as the entirety of this story is based solely upon projectile vomiting.

It began as a typical family vacation just this one happened to be in Lake George. The day consisted of a game of Pirate's Cove mini golf--in which one of my brother's almost whacked me in the head with the club-- followed by a dip in the water--in which I was almost drowned by my other brother-- and some ice cream. Overall, the vacation I must say was going very well.

Famished from a long day of cooperating with one another we were seduced by the script neon green letters that whispered coaxingly to us, Olive Garden. The aroma of fresh oregano and parmesan of the never ending salad engulfed my thoughts, enigmatically drugging me, wafting through the pebble driveway that reminded me of my youth living in Sicily, eventually leading me to the wardrobe to take me to Italian Narnia.

We were all waiting for a seat and drank a disgustingly sweet cream soda drink. Jack drank two. That was the first strike of the night. Next, we were seated and the endless salad route became. Jack, my younger brother, took advantage of this rare opportunity and had bowl after bowl. Strike two. The third strike was jack asking us if anyone would pay him to eat a peppercini, and although everyone said no he did it anyways. Why, I don't know however he paid the price moments later fanning his mouth, and tears running down his face he  chugged a giant glass of chocolate milk. Meanwhile, my brother Alex, my Dad, and I are hysterical ourselves tears running down our face chugging our giant glasses of chocolate milk. A real family bonding moment.

The moment he started to tilt towards the other table and opened his mouth the silence in the restaurant was deafening as he vomited on the other table, then on my mother's skirt, then once again on the other table.

This time there was no stopping the three of us unaffected. Not since then nor prior have I ever been in so much agony from laughing so hard. I'm not a sadist but something about the rapid escalation from cream sodas and the 99 cent umbrella straws to jack throwing up on the family next to us who probably will never go to Olive Garden again.
My mother and jack go  to the bathroom to clean up, and unmarred by Jack's puke fest the two boys and I eat our breadsticks.

No this is not considered my most comfortable place as that would probably be the vineyard--Martha's that is--but I cannot think of this day without laughing about it. In a twisted way it did bring my family together, and at the end of the night we were in complete bliss unfortunately at the expense of one of our own. Povero Jack!