My entry in the B3Ta "worst ever vomit story" competition

Thought you might like this one. I was nominated for "Vom of the millennium" for Bloke Who Caught His Vom in His Mouth in '00 but narrowly missed out to the Bloke Who Vommed in Collis' Pants, which I believe will be made into an HBO original mini-series next season

Anyhow, this story is from '01 and I think it's frankly better than my millennium vom;

Hmm cocktails. Bit lumpy, though
My worst vom must have been the one someone else drank...

Cocktails make me vom. Especially when they have tequila in them. I've no idea why; I've never got riotously drunk on tequila. Well, that's not actually true, but I never got drunk enough to put me off the stuff. Still makes me vom, though and I don't even need to be at all drunk for
it to happen.

Anyhow, so I'm at my mate's wedding banquet; a Chinese tradition adopted by foreigners in Hong Kong; basically dress up, eat lots, get pissed, go clubbing, possibly end up in some go-go bar in WanChai the following morning. We were at the clubbing stage of the evening.

I have several stupid friends who think shooters are clever and don't know of my vom-allergy to Tequila. Sure enough a round of shooters came round and, not wanting to appear a "girl" I held my breath and sucked back on some orangey concoction. Still not sure what it was, but it was
enough to activate the sick trigger.

Didn't even reach my stomach; Leapt back out immediately it got to the lower reaches of my throat, my stomach adding some well considered bile to the mix, just to warn me for next time.

I am fairly used to this happening by now and can usually catch the offending output in the glass it came from but it was past 2 and my aim was off. I caught about half of it in the glass and the rest went up the sleeve in my really fucking expensive suit.

I staggered off to the loo to clean up, hoping that the bile wouldn't have eaten the lining in my jacket by the time I had sponged it off, then rejoined the party ensuring that I stayed on lager for the duration. Craking evening, finishing at about 6am and deftly avoiding
go-go bars; always a plus with a wife to explain yourself to.

I found out about a week later that someone had thought that I had thrown up exclusively down my sleeve and had left half a drink.

After exploring the subject of why they thought this and why it might be important / amusing, I discovered the truth; my bosses wife had necked half a glass of my vom.

My boss knows by now, I believe he will take the secret with him to the grave, though.

It's 100 bucks for all you can drink and eat at the Aussie bar so I'm off

Bomber out