The Next Morning

So the next morning we wake up at 730 in order to get to orientation by 9. Hungover as can be we shower and walk out the door to meet the rest of the group out in front of our flats. As we wait, Kravitz turns to me calmly and says "Can I get your keys?". Sure, I say, and toss them to him. He returns just as the group is leaving and whispers in my ear, "I just projectile vomited all over the wall and bathroom of our apartment."
5 minutes later we board the tube. I look down to see Kravitz holding in burp after burp. He looks as likely to keep it down as Martin at a high school party. Fortunately, he makes it off the tube and we all enter the Cass Business School. They call his name to give him his ID, but he is nowhere to be found. He returns a few minutes later and tells me he just booted in the street outside.
Now, I could keep telling you about each individual puke, but I will suffice it to say that he had to leave class at least 3 times--one right after our program leader brought him in front of the class and made him model a Wash U bag for everyone. At this point, everyone knew Kravitz was just puking all morning, even our director. He finally gave in and just told the guy he couldnt go on the bus tour that afternoon cause he would have to puke on the bus.
We are off to a great start...