Barfing in a hearse, is not as glamorous as you might think.

Barfing in a hearse, is not nearly as glamorous and exciting as it sounds. I will tell you now, the story of how I once had the misfortune of throwing up in the driver’s seat of a hearse, in procession, with a family member in the passenger seat. I write in graphic detail, because of my profession and being a mother of three children, I feel it does you no good, in the interest of the story, to not go into a high level of descriptions of the event. So, consider that your warning and invitation to continue on with the read.

I was in my early 20’s and was an acting manager at a fast-paced mortuary care center in the San Gabriel Valley, in Los Angeles. My facility was the care center that serviced 11 funeral homes directly and hundreds indirectly, for all cremations, funerals, transports, viewings, witness cremations, disinterment, etc... We were folks last stop, where they were bathed, embalmed, prepared for transport / shipment, prepared for cremation, autopsied, dressed, and casketed. We assisted funeral directors on services, wakes and rosaries. We picked up loved ones when they passed away at home, in a facility or on scene. We did it all and we loved what we were doing, it showed.

One bright California day I was scheduled to do double funeral services for one of our three Asian mortuaries. Sometimes there were so many services in a day that we had to double up and do one in the morning and then rush back to do another one in the afternoon. Now, we didn’t just show up, stand around and then hop back in a van and drive, rinse, repeat. No, we did everything from setting up for the service, to answering every question anyone asks you, to taking down the dozens and dozens of flower arrangements and loading them into our vans. Then we go to the cemetery, unload, and set up the flowers. After that, you assist with the GS service (Graveside Service), then you politely excuse yourself, so you can go back to the mortuary for the second set up, service, transport, and GS services. Long days didn’t seem long because for 10-12 hours, you are hustling and hungry.

So, I was set up for a double service day. I understood this meant, standing walking, hustling, lifting, and visiting with strangers; without significant food, water or a bathroom break, was what this day was going to be. I was ready. After my first of 10 cups of coffee, I would rush out with the body, for the first service to the mortuary. I assisted with everything and an hour later, the service ended. We (the other staff and I) take down the flowers and they prepare to leave. The people paying their respects make their way to their vehicles for the procession. After the loved one is placed in the hearse, the mourners are in their cars and the escorts say we can move forward, we head to the cemetery for the GS service.

If you have ever been in a procession, you know how it feels, driving at sometimes not even 20 miles per hour, crawling almost, to the final resting place of the deceased. You are mourning, remembering, reminiscing, crying, listening to jams, who knows what everyone does, but you know how it is if you’ve been in one. We typically took one of the closest family members in the hearse with us when we drove lead car, which again, was the hearse. They hold incense and sometimes have prayers or chants playing on the drive, they said it helps guide the spirit to where they are headed, just follow the song, chant or prayer.

I stayed for the end of that service and then rushed back to help with the next one. I helped get things situated for the second service and the people were settling in for, the either cookie cutter ceremony of choice, or the heartfelt goodbye type of memorial service that I liked. I liked to be a part of these and learn about who I had cared for in my facility in the days prior. Once I heard the service start, I knew I had time to run to the bathroom then go and grab anything around to eat (which today was a ham and cheese croissant and an apple), have 2 more of my 10 cups of coffee, and then I hit the ground running once more. Took down the flowers, got everyone into their cars, put the loved one in the hearse, wait for the go ahead from the escorts, and we were off.

It was about a 30–60-minute drive from the funeral home and the cemetery that time, we were going to Rose Hills, if you don’t know about that place, you should look it up. It was at one time the worlds largest cemetery, or one of. They have a beautiful chapel and grounds, it goes on for miles and miles, over rolling hills. I had been here many times before, hundreds, yet I still really enjoyed the trips over there and the views once we arrived. You could see the city of Los Angeles and palm trees everywhere, the industrial areas dominated the gates of the cemetery, but it was just a gorgeous view of the city I called home.

About 30 minutes into the drive, I had notice that I was getting really sweaty and hot, but no, no, I am cold now and sweating, hot, then cold. I felt that ominous first pain in my tummy, then I knew, or I thought I knew what was coming. No, I did not. The hot and cold spells and the pain that had just decided to quadruple in my gut and stomach was becoming overwhelming. I kept breathing, watching the scenery, ignoring the strong scent of smoky incense………incense? Incense??!!!!! Oh, my gawd, in all this agony, I lost sight of the fact there is a passenger in my vehicle! No, no, no, no, NO! This is not, cannot and will not happen I am thinking. I concentrate on being okay, I crack the window open, and I see that we are getting closer and closer to the gates of the cemetery. I just know if I keep strong, breathing and concentrating, on being okay, I will be okay, I will make it. I Will Make IT!

Have you ever gotten that really wet mouth, right before you barf? Well, I have, and this time would be no different. I felt like everything was truly moving in slow motion, how we pulled into the cemetery, we drove around the first curve, and began the accent up the next hill. An Eternity, this is how long this trip felt like it was taking. I felt, like I could keep it in, maybe, possibly, if I had to? I could just swallow it, keep it in my mouth……….and swallow it. (Don’t say I didn’t warn you in the beginning. Ha!) I was contemplating it all, then it just shot out! I turned my head towards my window, but the window was Not Down. I tried to cover my mouth, only to make the spray worse. I saw pink, I saw apple peels, I saw ham. IT WAS everywhere……………………

I wiped my face with my suit sleeve, turned slowly to my passenger, who was the son of the deceased gentleman who was in the back of my hearse. He said nothing, and had the look of utter disbelief, which was appropriate and expected. I said ever so softly, with puke on my face, “I am so sorry, I don’t know what happened.”. I heard a knock on my window, it was one of the escorts asking if things were okay. I had just kind of turned the wheel of the hearse to the curb, put my foot on the break and stopped as a threw up and just stayed there. I rolled down the window, watching the chunks of apple go inside the car, just sliding on the window. I said, well, I said nothing, my look said it all. We knew each other, the escorts and I were all friends, we saw each other every day, so we were all acquaintances. I was in my head thinking, please don’t tell anyone about this, when I heard the radio go off. He leaned over and grabbed the button on the radio mic and said, “Lorie just threw up in the hearse, I repeat, she threw up in the hearse.”. Son of a bitch, I could not believe I just heard that out loud and over all the radios, of all the escorts, in the whole area. Noooooooooo! In my mind I’m falling to my knees, just yelling……………and scene.

They ask if I can continue on up the next hill just around the curve and to the site. I say yes and we all get into position, and we drive. Now we have our windows fully down in the hearse, as you can probably imagine, even incense don’t cover the smell of vomit. We make our way to the plot and park. The son gets out of the hearse and family surround him asking what happened. They all rushed over to me and started saying they were sorry and asking if I was okay. I felt so bad, they? They were apologizing to me? I felt like I had ruined their very sacred ceremony and they were bringing me water, trying to help, it was such a relief and it made me cry. I could not believe that this just really happened. I watched them all go to the grave with the Buddhist monks then I broke down.

The escorts came to help me get as cleaned up as I could, given I had no change of clothes there. They told me they had called the care center and asked Mr. Pierce (He is a story all his own, and for another day.) to come and drive me back. I drove to the bottom of the hill, parked, and waited for him to arrive. Mr. Pierce came over and just wiped off, ever so brief, the barf on the interior of the car and door, then just sat down next to me and said, “Wow, you really know how to make a memory don’t you!?” With a chuckle and a nudge to my shoulder, he just drove us back to the care center and didn’t say much else. I was beat.

I was still sick later that day and the next day. I thought I would be better and went to work, went to a cemetery for a service, then ran to the nearest restroom to throw up. I couldn’t believe that I could be this sick. Turns out the ham and cheese croissants were old that day. I was so used to just grabbing food on the run, shoving it into my mouth and moving on. Yesterday was like any other day, until it wasn’t. That was one of the most insane and absurd things I have ever experienced, and I love to tell the story. I like it because it is funny, gross, and it had a kind message, because the folks I was supposed to be helping that day, helped me. I am happy that it happened, but man, it was horrible to go through.

Just so you know, Mr. Pierce spend the next day cleaning the hearse and tried to get the chunks and apple peel out of the inside of the panel. He worked on that for days and ended up calling it quits. We found apple peals in the window buttons and certain places on the window when we rolled it up and down for months after. It was always hilarious and disgusting at the same time when a piece popped up. So that is it, you made it, you read the whole story. I hope your glad you did and I am happy to have told it to you.