Day 232: Flying to Saigon — An Airport Barfing Incident
Today would have been uneventful if it weren’t for one, very memorable event.
Here’s the punchline: James puked in a packed airport shuttle. Feel free to skip to the next post if not interested in 5-year old barf stories.
Here’s what happened:
We had breakfast on the terrace at our hotel in Hue.
Side note: we’ve been meaning to write about the hilarious placemats at the hotel restaurant. It’s a color printout of a 2001 Australian newspaper article in which the writer calls the buffet the “ultimate breakfast experience in the world.”
So funny for several reasons:
First, the hotel is still using a 20-year old article from some nameless Australian paper, not only as their placemats but also in a huge framed and printed poster in the hallway outside our room. And since the placemats are color-printed on paper I assume that at some point in the last couple years someone in marketing said, “That article is over 15 years old and that newspaper doesn’t even exist anymore… should we still print another year’s worth of placemats?… [reads copy again]… “He calls us divine dining! Print another thousand!”
Second, this might have been the first breakfast buffet the writer has ever seen. He’s blown away by things like “Made-to-order omelets… You choose from a host of ingredients, among them cheese, fresh tomato chopping, baby mushrooms, ham, onion, chili mint and bean shoots.” If this is your first experience with an omelet guy I can understand being excited. My 11 year old mind was similarly blown when I first walked into a Golden Corral after a Little League tournament in La Plata, MD.
Third, we’ve seen our fair share of breakfast buffets this year and despite the writer’s claims of an “ultimate experience,” this one isn’t in my top 50%. The kids might rank it higher, but only because of the unlimited fresh passion fruit… which we will see again in this post. Literally.
Back to our day…
We packed up and checked out, carrying more bags than usual. We have accumulated a decent amount of stuff in Vietnam — our tailored clothes, our lantern, our kites and are planning to ship them all home but haven’t stopped by a DHL. I had a tote bag and Margaret had our kites and a lantern all wrapped up in tape.
(Update from a few days later: we ended up leaving the lantern and the kites in Saigon. Just not worth carrying with us further and not worth the money to ship.)
On the way to the airport James started to say that he had a stomach ache.
He’s not a big complainer and actually has far fewer ailments than his big sister. But saying “my belly hurts” is probably his most common whine — right up there with “my hands are sticky.” He’ll say it when he’s really hungry, when he has to poop and also when he has a stomach ache of some kind. But it is sometimes hard to tell what’s really going on.
We said goodbye to our guide Jan.
James continued to complain on and off through airport ticketing and security but then finished all of a fruit and yogurt “smoothie” we ordered at an airport restaurant. I use quotes because it was like a smoothie they had forgotten to put in the blender… just a tall glass of yogurt with big chunks of fruit. We will also be seeing this smoothie again after a more, um… natural blending process.
He complained a little on the plane while serving a 15-minute no-iPad punishment for bad behavior. But as soon as the iPad was on, he didn’t say a thing.
Our flight landed in Saigon and he started complaining again. There was no jetway so we packed into an airport shuttle bus to the terminal. Riding these buses has become one of our least favorite activities, even before this incident.
A couple minutes into the ride James threw up. On the floor, on himself, on me. Margaret and I were both stunned for a second. More puke. We didn’t know what to do. Finally I took the entire tote bag of stuff and just shook it out on the floor behind me and held it under James’s face. But I needed two hands to hold open the bag — and the bus was moving, turning, breaking. So I had to bend my knees and sink my butt into a offensive lineman pass blocking stance in order to hold onto James’s arm, hold the bag open so he could finish inside it and keep from falling into the puddle of puke.
Poooor guy. Felt so sorry for him.
And we were mortified of course. Margaret kept saying, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” to the poor people around us.
But our fellow bus riders were so kind. Six different people, including one Bhudist nun handed wet wipes to Margaret.
We were at the terminal and the airport attendant was kicking us out of the bus, saying they would clean up the mess.
We got James’s sweater from his backpack, took off his t-shirt, dropped the tote in the pile of puke, picked up everything else and headed into the terminal.
After cleaning James up in the bathroom we got our bags and ventured out into the madness of Saigon.
We were met by our super nice guide but none of us wanted anything but to get to our hotel, shower, and end the day.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been more grateful for a lovely hotel room. The Villa Song Saigon Hotel in District 2 is beautifully designed and super comfy. We have a suite with a balcony overlooking the river with two twin beds squeezed into the sitting room.
I walked down the street for takeout at Outcast Saigon, a mixed use space with a bar, restaurant, climbing wall and mini skateboard park. I had a much needed cold beer while I waited for the food.
We had a bite to eat in the room then got the kids to bed.
Margaret and I then had beers on the balcony and talked about our current state of mind (see Margaret’s Day 231 post). We’ve over-scheduled ourselves with guided activities and are determined to dial things back for the next week or so in Saigon and Siem Reap.
