I can vividly remember each time I did vomit, as they came under peculiar circumstances. Here is a quick rundown:
1. February 1988- Cancun, Mexico. Fifteen year old Mr. French samples a plethora of tequila shots, and then stunbles into the surf. Vomit is detected by local fish population.
2. November 1997- Houston, Texas. My then-fiance Mrs. French and I went to Houston to see U2 on the POP tour. I was living in Del Rio, Texas while going to pilot training, and this was absolutely my peak drinking days. We met a college friend of mine out in Houston, and I consumed about four margaritas. Here is the kicker- I went to the restroom, and was using the urinal. I thought it might feel good to let out a huge burp while urinating, and accidentally vomited in the urinal. It hit the urinal and bounced onto my pants. Khakis. Bad move. And I realized my college buddy was an asshat that talked about Merino wool more than one would expect.
This is a vomit/urinal combo. I could have used this.
3. New Year's Eve, 1999- St Paul, MN. I was at Radd and Laurie's house, and I consumed six Paulaner Hefeweizens and about a dozen Little Smokies. I love the Smokies, but apparently don't chew them that well. The Paulaner briefly made me bulletproof, then very, very sleepy. I awoke feeling sick, and attempted to rise and move the 15 feet to the bathroom. Too far. I released them in a geyser of red hurl. Sorry about that, Laurie.
Three times in 38 years. I'm sure there are a few I don't know about, but I still think that is a pretty good streak. You can also see why I limit myself to two drinks.
So, how about you? Any theories?