You say Samba, I say upchuck…Let’s call the whole thing off.


One may have in mind the idea to enjoy a nice meal out with a friend, but sometimes the universe conspires against you. I had a Groupon that was about to expire (a gift from my wonderful sister Kelly), for a Brazilian restaurant not too far from my house, and I invited my friend Lane to join me.  Maybe it was just a coincidence, but when I told them we had a Groupon, they shuttled us to a dingy table in the “family” area of the restaurant (lots of screaming kids) right by the wait station. And then about halfway through the meal, one of the families was leaving and their 6 year old kid starts projectile vomiting right on the floor next to our table, and he didn’t stop for a good long while either. That, along with what looked like questionable offal in the feijoada didn’t do much for my appetite. They seemed to really be taking their time cleaning it up, and my poor friend Lane was more facing it than I was, and turning greener by the second. We asked to be moved to another table, but the only one they had was outside, where it was a less than balmy 53 degrees, so we shivered while we picked though the rest of our meal with the PTSD of the sick fresh in our heads. My friend Lane was quite a good sport about it, and we did manage to have a laugh, so between that and the company, all was not lost.


  1. Lane says:

    Why remind me? You’re actually being very kind about the traumatic event. Just reliving in my mind makes me shudder.