Preggy Pop [9.14.08]

Today I had the rare yet unenvied opportunity to behold one of the most thrilling subjects known to man: a gestating woman at the summit of nausea. As commonplace as one may think this behavior is, the role of "pregnancy aide" was instantly and involuntarily launched upon me, despite my squawks against it. So there we were, four menopausal women, a woman with child and morning sickness, and comparatively boring me, awaiting the invitation to the salad bar. Seeing the food was no issue for said woman eating for two, but the wafting aroma of chicken fajitas became the iceberg on the Titanic of prenatal baby-land. The ship was sinking and I was the captain, but I would refuse to halt in the command deck and do nothing - for such was the last living memory of the captain in the clichéd 1997 film. Instead, I took to the poop deck in search of the sacred yet mild ginger ale. Turning left down the hall, I saw my salvation: a vending machine with a cornucopia of options. I inserted my five quarters and pushed the button...but alas! My worst nightmare had come true in the form of little red lights flashing "SOLD OUT". Like any good pregnancy aide, I just regrouped, formulated "Plan B", and went for the Sprite. I was just about to pat myself on the back when the Sprite button also yielded the same result. I pressed the coin return and inserted it once more, selecting Sierra Mist. This time, I cringed with my eyes closed, perhaps giving the vending machine a chance to retreat from its shelter and lend me some soda. I squinted my left eye to let a crevice of light in - and I saw nothing. I did however hear some internal action going on; the clinking and ca-dunking was its own Hallelujah Chorus to me, and I walked away, soda in hand, a changed woman. I proudly returned to the lunch table with my Sierra Mist, yet a resounding groan was heard by the chorus of women. They scolded me as if I were supposed to know better. If I remember correctly, "Soda with caffeine? What were you thinking?!" and "There is no ginger in Sierra Mist!" were the most popular gripes. After the whole ordeal, several questions were mine to ponder: What just happened? Were their expectations too high? Or was my soda selection too low? Since when did good deeds become unthankable?