I, Anonymous Food Court Vomitorium

Steven Weissman

To those eating their hot dogs and pizza when my son barfed all over the food-court floor: sorry not sorry. The collective intake of breath when you all saw it was understandable. I was just as surprised. Thank you for not coming to my rescue and distracting me from focusing on him. Also, fuck you for not coming to my rescue with something to help me clean up the massacre. I hope the show gave you just what you needed to choke down your food. Next time, maybe direct traffic away from the vomit and go grab a fistful of napkins. To the poor teenage boy who was called to clean up: I am so sorry. I should've thanked you as you handed me the paper towels. You looked like a little deer in the headlights. I'm not sure you knew what you were cleaning up—by the time you got there, I had cleaned up a lot of it and taken off my vomit-soaked jacket.