Oh nuts!

Ah the sweet sweet joy of a hangover. Feel the throbbing in your head, the points of light as you turn your head, squinting into the brightness. Revel in your gastrointestinal turmoil threatening explosive orifices. Relax as you spin around the room....or as your room spins around you. Wonder how you removed your shoes but not your coat before falling asleep and celebrate the fact that you apparently had the forethought to delicately place a garbage can near your bed.

I dedicate this thought to Meg on the aftermath of her birthday. I curse the stupid bartender who thought whiskey was a good idea. And I thank that Chris guy for his salty nuts.
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So besides my Missed Connection experiment (not going very well by the way), I am questioning yet another mystery of the metro. I, like many poor unfortunate souls, am subject to motion sickness. However, it seems to be sporadic. What is the determining factor of my alimentery happiness? Sitting position, number of cars, which car, food intake or output, reading material, temperature, presence/lack of hot young men to gaze longingly at, driver, time of day, previous alcohol consumption? Any ideas?

I have to figure this out because I am convinced that I will meet a fiery end in the traffic circle of death and dismemberment.