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Last day in Alaska.

Mom picked up me and Brother and went on a forever drive out the road. She made us stand in the freezing ass cold/wind/snow on a beach to get pictures that didn't turn out very well because our hair was everywhere and our faces were scrunched into our jackets so we had like 10 chins each. HOT.

Stopped in at the waffle place and tried to get soup but failed. Sat around and talked shit for a while. Drove back to Douglas to see grandparents/aunts one more time. Hung out there for a while, ate a ton of salmon (pickled, smoked, and lox omg), Grandma gave me some really old sewing books and kept trying to feed me cookies. Left and met up at Island Pub with Steff/Kyle/Tom/Kimbert. Ate cheese-less pizza with too much garlic. Called to double check my flight and the recording said it was canceled out of Juneau, so we went out to the airport to check.

Turns out it was just delayed three hours so I sat around in the lounge with Mom and Brother. My stomach started to bother me at this point and I figured it had something to do with the jarred salmon. OMG BOTCHULISM! Finally went through security and boarded. My stomach was getting worse and worse as we were taking off. I went to the bathroom to pee and ended up puking up everything I'd eaten that day. The rest of my flight pretty much involved me moving to my own row in the back of the plane, having the flight attendants give me a huge bottle of water so I had something in my stomach, puking into a barf bag while waiting for the bathroom, and throwing up a total of 6 times, once while in the process of getting off the plane. HELL.

I took a cab to Matao's where Phillip being the darling that he is made me soup that I couldn't manage to eat. I passed out in Matao's bed with a bucket nearby, 'cause shit you never know, right? Classy stuff.