I think I put the nail in the coffin today as far as riding the bus goes. I was one stop from hurling all over the floor. Every turn, every bump, every pothole, every stop sign, every slight move seemed designed to make me ill. I could taste it, I could feel it coming. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on making it to my stop. Then I rushed down the bus steps and walked as slowly as possible, breathing deeply of the fresh air. The nausea didn't fade for at least the first hour of class.
I was so traumatized that I refused to ride the bus back to my office after class. Instead I tightened the shoulder straps on my backpack, buckled the waist and chest straps and put up my hair. I would walk it! The flat parts were mostly pleasant with occasional shade, but when I turned to start up the big, long hill the shade vanished. I was sweating profusely, and I could feel my face turn into the tomato it usually reserves for lawn mowing. Black pants in the bright sun weren't helping. I plugged on, stopping only once to take a quick swig of water.
I finally got to my building and was thankful for the AC, something I usually dislike. Forty minutes, door-to-door, walking at a pretty good clip. I'm not sure walking it twice a day in summer is practical, especially since my July class is held several blocks further down the hill. I got blisters on both feet, as I was wearing my Tevas for only the second time this season. And I can't promise I didn't smell during my afternoon meeting.
At least I don't have to worry about it for tomorrow, but it will take a lot to convince me to get back on that bus.