This weekend began in a generally giddy manner - day time margaritas, a Christmas-lit art walk on Broad Street, wine and cheese gluttony at Bin 152 per the usual, and some more gluttony at a new place where Cassablanca played on a projector and the olive oil tasted like Greece. Side note: I consciously think about how much I love my friends every single day. They are the best.
Then, it got weird. Saturday night I went to see 127 Hours. While this probably was not the smartest decision given my history of queasiness, my love for James Franco tricked me into going anyway. About thirty minutes into the movie, I started feeling light-headed and anxious. I left to get water, gain some perspective, and tell myself that it is just a movie. But before I got to the water, I fainted. Twice.
It was embarrassing to say the least, and I actually felt sorry for the deer-in-headlights employees who had to wake me up. I think I freaked them out? Somehow, we managed to salvage the night with coffee ice cream, miso soup, white rice, and multiple episodes of Modern Family (in that order). I proceeded to giggle at random intervals (head injury?) throughout the night, in awe that I actually fainted (twice). At least it makes for a funny story...
I went to the doctor the next day for peace of mind (my head hurt) and after a couple hours and too many tests, the diagnosis was to "stick to a different movie genre." Thank you kind sir, will do.