Stuck in the Middle

"You know, I'm not feeling too well, might go to bed early and have a bit of a lie down"

"But it's only 7.30, probably last night catching up with you"

"yeah! Give me a couple of hours and then we can think about heading over to the cinema"

So off I trot, admittidley feeling not 100% but still blissfully unaware of the events that were about to transpire. I left Vince to the TV, happy as Larry sitting watching an episode of Home and Away with our fellow room mate Lizzy.
Lizzy had been travelling on a year long visa in NZ, and was just about to start here OZ leg of her journey before heading home back to England. We shared a room not in the convential room sharing way, nothing wierd here, just that the room was split into two sections, as you entered the room door, you were faced with a single bed room, inhabited currently by Lizzy, and in the back corner there was an open section through to another room with two beds in, you guessed it, occupied by myself and Vince. Essentially the important bit about the room structure was that to get out of the room you had to walk through Lizzy's section of the room. In itself not overly intrusive giving the usual state of affairs of having to weave your way through a maze of bunk beds in the normal 30 bed dorm found in other backpack accomodation. However giving that I consider myself, and I'm sure Vince does also, a polite person, a certain amount of silence and quite walking was called for when returning late in the evening.
Anyway there I was sitting in my bed attempting to do a kind of sleeping, reading, listening to music type of deal, when Vince enters

"God Gary, you missed the most amazing episode of Home & Away, you wouldn't believe the cliffhanger, I think I'll give Clayton a quick phone."

"You know, I'm starting to feel a bit worse, I think I might just stay in and do the cinema tomorrow"

"You sure"

"Yeah, I think it's the best option all round"

"No problem, might go down and watch a DVD in the common room"

So off Vince trots, back down stairs, and off I slip into a restless sleep. The next thing I remember is Vince and Lizzy coming back into the shared room around the 10.30 mark and me waking up.

"You OK"

"I'm feeling really unwell"

"shit, you look green"

"I'll be alright if I just lay here in this one set position"

Vince then opens the wardrobe door, has a bit of a rummage around, and after about ten seconds comes wandering back over with a very large bucket.

"Just in case!"

"I'm not bloody five years old, I'm sure I'm more than capable of navigating 10ft to get to the toilet."

and with my objections made, "just leave it by the bed"

I thought to myself, I know what better way to forget the urge to vomit than to listen to some Smiths and reached for my MP3 player.
It was about half way through "Girlfriend in a Coma" when the first attack hit. First immense pain in my stomach, then incredibly violent dry wretching. At this point the bucket looked like an inviting prospect, but my dignity stood strong and like a whippet up I got, through the darkness I went, first our own room, I reached for the frame where the door once was, then stumbled into Lizzy's room, I offer my hand in apology, as surely if I were to open my mouth I would be apologising for more than a bit of noisy stumbling, I reach for the door and swung it open, god damn these people why can't the install friction hinges, the door bangs against the wall first one way then then slams back into place, god, if the frenzied footsteps weren't enough an bloody banging door that would wake the dead. My pace is now a run and I find the communial toilet on the opposite side of the corridor thankfully vacant. I use my built up momentum and hurl myself forward, dropping to my knees in one movement, I lock into the toilet like a well executed docking manoever. My mouth opens and my beautifully prepared pasta dish is enjoyed once more. The next ten minutes are spent in that one position, I become ever more aware of the echoing nature of the toilet, the next ten minutes are spent on the linolium floor, just enjoying the coolness. I eventually rise to my feet and make my way back through the banging door, past Lizzy, again offering my hand in apology, this time in a completely embarrased fashion, back through the door frame into the now illuminated bedroom.

"You Ok, that sounded terrible"

"mmmm"

I get back into bed and fall back into a restless sleep.

I awake with an overpowering feeling of nausia, I stumbled out of bed and through the darkness, I find the door frame and continue on into Lizzy's room, I offer my hand in apology and stumble into the corridor through the banging door. I find the toilet unused and slump back down into my now familiar position. I'm sure I didn't cook that much? I thought to myself as I lay once again on the floor. 10 minutes pass and once again up I get, through the banging door, stumble pass Lizzy, this time not bothering to apologise and back into the now dark room.

"You Ok?"

"Did I wake you!"

Back to bed I go, and fall back to sleep.

I checked my watch on each of my visits to the toilet that evening, I reckon I got up about every hour on the hour, each time repeating the same sorry walk to the toilet, and with each visit the volume of outflow reducing, but I'm sure the noise making each effort increasing. Finally I get to sleep about the 5 o'clock mark.

"Some night ehh"

"Yeah, sorry about the noise"

"God, you must have had a terrible time of it"

"No, no, it was Gary who was ill"

"oh"

Aparently I was quite the discussion around the breakfast table, "who was that throwing up in the toilet last night?" "Probably some backpacker, had too much to drink, I tell you, I moved into this place to get away from that nonsense"

I came down the stairs and made my way directly to the reception desk. Luckily I was leaving that day, but I was quick to offer my apologies to the owner and I didn't stop for breakfast. Not sure if it's me or the city, but there is definitely something going on with Sydney, we just can't seem to get along, bloody food poisoning!