Throwback Thursday #38: Puking My Way Across Kentucky (Part 3)

"When the world says, 'Give up,' hope whispers, 'Try it one more time.'" ~Author Unknown

Here goes part three. If you missed parts one or two, read those to get caught up!

Luckily we all made it to picture time. The boy in the hospital arrived literally with about 10 minutes to spare. And considering the last two days, I'd say that we looked pretty darn good in the team photo! (We also look pretty darn young....but I guess that's another blog for another day).
Anyway, I don't remember exactly what we did on day one and what we did on day 2 of the contest. I think that the first day we took the test (which ironically, as you will recall from part one of this story, is the reason we were in this food poisoned state to begin with), and then we did cull/keep as a team, and then we did grading. Then on the second day I think we actually judged classes and gave reasons.

I do remember having to leave the area where the livestock was twice on the first day because I was still sick. And let me just tell you, a whole day of being outside, in the dirt, standing up, wearing the awesomely hot FFA jacket and black pants was not what a girl needed on a sick stomach!

Anyway, somehow we made it through the first day. By this time, the boys all felt a lot better and were back to eating. I was not so quick to go back on feed, which lead to several references to sick cattle and discussions of what needed to be done for me. Mr. F decided that the answer was to drive around Louisville until we found soup for dinner. Now, the last thing I wanted to do was crawl in a van and drive around a city that we were not used to.....hello car sickness! But when Mr. F had an idea, you just went with it.

Finally we ended up going into somewhere like an Applebee's or Friday's. Mr. F asked the hostess if they had soup. She said yes. And he said, "Give us a table." What he forgot to ask was what KIND of soup. The options were something like spicy corn cowder and seafood gumbo. Not the chicken noodle that I had in mind.

Mind you, when you go to a restaurant and Mr. F knew what you should order, you didn't get other options. For example, had I wanted a sandwich instead of soup, he would have said no. He was famous for this. Several times he would line up the boys basketball team and make them all drink Theraflu, whether they were sick or not. Other times, he would take a basketball or a judging team to The Fontier and no matter what you ordered, you had to get orange juice for the Vitamin C. (FYI--green enchilladas and orange juice are not the best combination).

Anyway, back to the soup, I don't eat seafood whatsoever, so spicy corn chowder was pretty much my only option. I honestly tried to eat it. I sort of poked around, and then excused myself to the ladies' room. When I came back, Mr. F announced to the group that if I didn't eat all of that soup, we were going straight to the hospital.

I was game to call his bluff---I had known this guy my whole life, and there was no one more competitive than he was. He was not going to haul me to the hospital with a day of judging left. One of my teammates was not as confident. The meal ended with that scared teammate LITERALLY shoving soup into my mouth with a spoon. How I survived this meal is beyond me.

Anyway, the next day we made it through the rest of the contest. Up next was the awards ceremony.....the moment of truth. Would we even place? Would I get sick at the awards ceremony in front of everyone? Could some other sort of disaster occur?

Stay Tuned for the Conclusion of Our 4 Part Miniseries Next Week!

And....last reminder....enter this month's giveaway....click here!