On Saturday I found myself at Civic Centre, at around 11:30 am puking next to a tree. It was regrettably not the result of some crazy all night party. Instead, it was because I had decided to end six months of pretending I had more in common with a potato than an athlete by attending a ridiculously hardcore kettlebells-cardio-trx class in SOMA. I spent most of the class thinking I was going to vomit but held it together long enough to make it to Civic Centre, whereupon I dropped to my knees and vomited into a tree.

I say into a tree because the tree was surrounded by some foul smelling liquid that I assume was pee (it being San Francisco).

While I was there, spewing a stream of coconut water and undigested apricots into an outdoor toilet I heard something that seemed out of place. It sounded like: Nice Ass. It was followed up with something along the lines of: I’m talking to you.

Huh? My vomit-addled brain reeled. It’s not like I could answer him, even if I wanted to. But then again, it being San Fran it’s likely he wasn’t necessarily thinking straight.

A moment later he came into my line of sight and asked if I was okay in a tone of voice that implied he was actually quite concerned. Which was nice. I guess. He looked less crazy than I had assumed he would. He offered to help, I declined and he stood there for a bit longer nervously watching me continue to vomit which was kind of weird.

I got up eventually, still a bit dizzy but determined to get out of there. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stumbled forward. I passed a group of guys who had been standing less than a foot away and was immediately bombarded with a flurry of “good morning gorgeous” after which came the inevitable “what you’re not going to say good morning back?”

I didn’t say anything back. I just squinted into the distance and tried to concentrate on not vomiting more. (Though a part of did want to scream: ARE YOU KIDDING ME? YOU JUST SAW ME VOMITING INTO THAT TREE. WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WANT TO TALK TO YOU RIGHT NOW?)

When I got home I realized I had bits of food stuck to my face.

Sometimes.. this city. Just when I think I’m starting to fall in love with it…

(Note: the accompanying picture has nothing to do with the story, but it’s creepy-cool no? Like what is that all about?)