Ok, so when I was an innocent University Fresher unused to clubbing and the general alcohol induced merriment associated with University, I endured what I still consider to this day to be both my worst hangover and worst journey of my entire life.
It all began with an ordinary night out around town which just happened to coincide with the last day of my first term at University. It was a great night; there was music and dancing and most crucially, there was an interesting and varied selection of different alcoholic drinks. I vaguely remember vodka, sambuca and tequila shots... So yeah, it was a good night. Unfortunately though, as I was a naive and inexperienced 18 year old, when drinking and dancing the night away I hadn’t really considered the potential consequences and after effects this could lead too i.e. A Hangover. I now refer to it as the hangover to end all hangovers.
My usual tactic to deal with a hangover was to just to pass out and sleep through the entire traumatic event and this so far had been a generally successfully strategy. However, on this particular morning my usual strategy was not an option. On this morning I had a ticket booked on a train to return home for the Christmas holidays. I had, in the back of my mind, considered that travelling after a heavy night out was not the best idea but I thought and stated to my housemates that morning, ‘It’s only a two hour train ride, it’ll be fine!’ Oh, how wrong I was...
So, I got to the train station feeling slightly queasy but generally ok. Then I looked up at the departure board and my heart just dropped. My train had been replaced by a replacement bus service. Now I understand, to you this may not seem like such a big deal. A mild and irritating inconvenience maybe, but not something to get too worked up about. However, what I haven’t told you yet is that I suffer from severe travel sickness which as I have subsequently learned is significantly exacerbated by alcohol consumption. I’m not ashamed to tell you that I nearly cried when I stared up at that departure board of doom.
I had no choice though, I needed to get home and it was only replacement bus services for the rest of the day, they were doing some kind of rail maintenance work I think. And so with some trepidation I boarded the bus. At first everything seemed fine, I was just sitting in my seat innocently staring out of the window. Then, suddenly I felt very, very queasy. Maybe it was the twisting and turning down the many B roads to pick up passengers from various stations in Lancashire or maybe it was just the fate I deserved. I honestly did try to hold it in for as long as possible and for the life of me I cannot explain the psychics of what happened next but I’ll tell you anyway. I vomited all over my own face. Yes, you read that right.I didn't vomit on my lap or into a carrier bag; it was actually all over my own face. I mean, there was a little excess splash on my coat but for some reason I had managed to contain my vomit to my face...
The most bizarre and worst/best part of this story though, was that nobody, not a single passenger on the reasonably busy bus had noticed what had happened. Thankfully, there was nobody sitting next to me at that point but no-one else even glanced in my direction. And then of course I was too embarrassed to say anything, I couldn't get up to tell the driver and there was no point getting off at a random stop only to have to get back on another bus. So, I wiped my face the best I could with some tissues I had in my bag and endured the rest of the journey smelling of sick, vowing to myself that I would never, ever, consume alcohol again. I think I lasted a week. On the other hand, the vow I made never to get on another replacement bus service again is one I have never broken.