XOX

I Threw Up, Passed Out, and Was Happy

January 12, 2010

No, this story doesn’t involve alcohol, though it does involve drugs! But, wait, stay with me… it gets a little long, though. Spoiler: the title is the gist of it.

I’ve been feeling my age a little bit, as I’m creeping up my late twenties. The first decade of the 21st century is complete. On New Year’s Eve, everyone was was lamenting what they were doing #10yearsago, so I also began lamenting. Don’t worry, I was (am?) a lame-o.

At any rate, it also made me start looking at some of my older Flickr photos and ran into this one (top photo). Now, I can go on about the story of the day that this photo was taken, but instead I’m going to tell you the story of my first real digital camera, which took this photo.

I was about to turn 19, and I really really wanted a digital camera. Like a complete cliche, I was one of those teens that blogged about things that didn’t really matter but seemed to be “a big deal.” I also wanted to take narcissistic photos of myself, my friends, and what we were up to. However, one couldn’t really do that without a camera. I’ve been planting the seeds in my parents head about a camera for a while now, and my father just told me to do my research to see what I’d like.

Now, like every techie, I wanted something cutting edge, thank you very much, and the camera I wanted with all the bells and whistles was the Fuji FinePix 6800 Zoom. It was highly rated and reviewed at its time. Now, mind you, in 2001, this stupid 3.3MP camera cost upwards to $800. Yes. I understand that you can get a dSLR for that price nowadays, and that makes me feel even older… I digress.

At any rate, I really really wanted it. And those who knows me, know that when I want something I obsess and yearn for it.

Coincidentally, right before my birthday, I was scheduled for oral surgery to take out all four of my wisdom teeth. I didn’t think much of it, because at 19, you don’t really quite understand or fathom the fact that wisdom teeth removal is surgery to remove bones from your skull and is quite serious. My parents and I had to sign off on a waiver form—generic surgery stuff, but still.

To this day, the experience during and following this surgery were some of the most extreme days of my life. First of all, my oral surgeon was gorgeous. It was so obvious that my mom and I were giggling about it all the way home. So, again, I wasn’t really nervous or thinking about the seriousness of the entire process. Which was really good, because I was pretty relaxed.

But that’s about as much as I could remember because they essentially gave me a Rohypnol-type drug, and once I started counting back to 10, all I remember was my mom waking me up in “recovery” and driving me home while I slept and was groggy.

Sleep was my friend the next couple of days. I was pretty floored that something as “simple” as wisdom teeth removal (I did have all four taken out), would drain someone so thoroughly. However, a couple more days passed and I started to feel a bit better. More importantly, my parents suggested that if I fronted half of the money for the camera, they’ll pay for the rest of it. Now, knowing my parents, once that was out of their mouths I knew I had to act fast. I felt fine, I had been recovering for a couple days already, so why not go out and get the camera right now?

Off we went to WestWorld, where it had the best price for some reason. However, within 20 minutes of motion, nausea hit me. I paled. Nope. I’m going to get that damn camera if it killed me.

“Are you okay?” my mother asked. “Uh oh, probably pushed too much today!”

“No, it’s fine,” I insisted. “We’ll just go home after.”

So, swaying on my feet and holding back the bile that was rising up my throat, I pushed myself to make sure that camera was in my hands. We asked for an extra plastic bag from the cashier.

I think you know what happens next.