timing is everything

last night i bent a tiny corner of the universe with my mighty will. or so it seemed/s.

i was scheduled to participate in a panel discussion organized by liveoutloud, which i’d been looking forward to, and had to get there by 7:30. my dayjob is on west 18th, i live on west 116th and the event was being held at the school of visual arts on east 23rd. yeah, enough time to go home after work, but only if i felt like spending an hour on the subway for no good reason. anyway, i’d had an unusual (and inexplicable) craving for fettucine alfredo all day long, so i found an italian restaurant on yahoo local and took myself out for a bite.

the fettucine was delicious! unfortunately, it was also contaminated. yes, another case of the SPLS’s seemed imminent, which i realized about half an hour after eating. in other words, just when i arrived at SVA.

i’ve had food poisoning before, and the odds are that you have too. it’s become more and more common as our food supply grows tainted. sloppy food storage and lax dishwashing techniques also contribute to the problem in this, our nation of slackers.

i once caught a case of food poisoning in the movies. four of us had gone out to dinner beforehand, and about 45 minutes into “wag the dog” three of us abruptly torpedoed toward the bathrooms. there’s that awful miasma at the onset of it: the world swims in a sickly haze, everything gone liquid and thick, head spinning and stomach roiling. i got so dizzy that halfway to the lounge i lost my balance and couldn’t immediately get up again. we’re talking the MOTHER of all food poisonings here. even in my misery, though, i almost laughed when one of the ushers rushed over shouting, “miss! is it your heart?” but i was afraid to actually speak. he ran off to get help when, really, all i needed was a hand to the ladies’ room. it took three awful, dry-toast-nibbling days for that attack to pass. the one member of our party who wasn’t affected was the only one who didn’t have any salad. the irony of being poisoned by SALAD in a sushi bar…

thanks to this and other memorable encounters with the underworld of food, i understood what was happening last night when that swimming spinning roiling thing started its little dance. not good! not fucking good at all, twenty minutes before i’m scheduled to do this preso.

it’s interesting how humiliating our common bodily functions are. i knew what was happening (or about to happen) yet i stupidly couldn’t bring myself to either ask for help or run screaming out of the venue and into a cab.

that’s when i commanded the universe to Make It Stop, and the universe obeyed.

please, i said to It, give me just an hour. let me get through this gig and into a cab and then bring it on, OK? one freaking hour. i drank a cup of ginger ale, tried to respond appropriately to preshow chitchat and introductions. there was an awful movie playing in my head (and it wasn’t wag the dog), one in which i fled the stage midsentence in a headlong rush to the ladies’ without quite making it. charming.

all of a sudden it’s time to start and i shakily take my seat on the panel. just as suddenly, i’m OK. really OK — the loudmouth wisecracking poet that had been requisitioned for this show arrived in full force and effect, and the whole event comes off really well. the students love us. when finally everything winds down almost two hours had gone by. i shared a cab uptown with aartie, the liveoutloud organizer, who was going my way.

i’m not in the apartment fifteen minutes when nature resumes the taking of its course. while dutifully erasing the day’s mascara with Clarins Gentle Eye Makeup Remover, my vision doubles. my left earlobe turns red and blows up twice its usual size. what the fuck, i’ve been wearing this butchy titanium stud for the last year, how is it bothering me now? then that whole side of my neck goes scarlet. now what is THIS?

well, who knows. best i can figure out is some kind of allergy combined with the food poisoning, which then proceeded to do its thing. you always think you’re going to die, in the middle of all that (and some people do) but usually you come out of it chastened and empty as a balloon (h/t to sylvia plath for that phrase) and more or less OK.

but here’s the thing: food poisoning (or ptomaine, as my mother used to call it) typically starts thirty minutes after consuming the contaminated meal, and has its way with you for the next couple of hours or days. there is no delayed reaction opportunity, no putting it off.

so, like i said, last night i bent a tiny corner of the universe using only my mighty will. i made a deal, and the universe kept its side of the bargain.

Recent Posts:

• Writers’ Holiday Not Giving Campaign Call for Action of No Spending [a guest post]
• not having a good day?
• cocktails for obama & straight talk for mccain
• sarah palin’s record on alaska native & tribal issues
• neither wailing nor gnashing of teeth

bookmark to: