And neither I nor my parents could predict exactly when I would throw up.

That was on flights between New York and Florida. Only flew into McCarran once, in the late 1990's or early 2000's, a layover flight that gave me enough time (so I thought) to enjoy the buffet at the Excalibur to which I walked. Enjoy it I did, until I realized I had to RUN back to the airport (it's what, a half mile?) to catch my flight east. I made it, just as they were announcing "Final Boarding." No, I didn't toss my cookies but I almost went into cardiac arrest.

From then on, I decided to skip going East and just stayed in Las Vegas to eat. Makes sense, yes?