I woke up and the room was spinning clockwise.

Am I wasted? No . . . I haven’t had a sip of alcohol in weeks. Is this some kind of immaculately conceived hangover?

After an hour of laying in bed hoping it would pass, I stood up and stumbled. Grabbed for a nearby wall to prop me up. I felt nauseous.

Do I have food poisoning? No . . . I haven’t eaten anything different this week, or any typical poisoning potential foods.

Maybe I just need something to eat . . . a bagel. That will soak up these symptoms.

It was hard to get dressed, I felt so nauseous, but I had no food in the house.

I walked down the street, into a local cafe. Every step was a challenge. If a cop pulled me over for walking under the influence, I would not have passed his straight line test.

I ordered my bagel. I don’t think I can even make it through this transaction . . . Before I could pay, I ran outside to throw up.

Thank goodness for New York City and its trash cans on every corner. I crouched nearby the trash can for a few more minutes just in case. Two very friendly delivery guys got out of their truck and brought me a cup of water.

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