What is the worst food poisoning you ever had?

[Titty Meat]

Im currently peeing out of my ass with the chills thankfully havent puked since this a.m. I believe the pulled pork sandwich I ate to be the culprit.

Since there are so many food threads we might as well share our food poisoning stories as well.

[Mosbonian]

Originally Posted by gblowfish

This one is easy for me. Back in the late 1980's I was on the road a lot shooting Jesus videos for the FCA. I was at the Palmer House in Chicago to record Mike Singleterry at a banquet. We didn't eat at the banquet, because our crew had a very limited time to get set up, get the shoot, make sure it was right, tear it down afterwards, etc. So we didn't get to eat dinner until very late. We got into a pizza joint -I think it was called Gaetano's or something like that- and got in right before closing. They didn't seem too happy about us coming in right before close, but we explained our situation, and they said OK we'll feed you.

I don't know if they gave us spoiled topping or what, but by around 2am my entire crew and I were all sicker than dogs. Not only that, we had to catch a 6:30am flight out of Midway back to KCI. So after spewing from all available portals all night, then I had to get on a plane and fly back to KCI, and spew some more once I got home. I was sick literally for three days. I didn't think it was possible to get that sick on pizza. It happened to me and all four of my crew guys. Terrible.

The pizza place sounds more like Giordano's than Gaetano's.....and if it was I can second that pain.

In early 2005 I was in Chicago to work the Housewares Show for the company I worked for at that time....one of the other guys who went was originally from Chicago and he told me that I needed to try a pizza at Giordano's.

So, the night before the show opened we went....and about an hour after we ate I regretted it! I went back to the Drake Hotel (where our team was staying) and it started coming out both ends. At one point the Front Desk called and asked if everything was OK, as one of the other guests heard me and asked them to check on me. I think I puked up stuff I ate in HS that night...

After about 12-15 hours of emptying every thing possible in my body, I finally stopped. My buddy brought me a bunch of waters and some Imodium. I stayed in bed all day that day and recuperated.

The blessing in disguise....our company was premiering our new (at that time) product that had a tie-in with Richard Simmons and he was scheduled to be at the booth that day. Instead I got to work the booth the next day when George Foreman was in....

[Mosbonian]

The other time I got so sick that I remember was in 1985...I had just started working for a company called Tallgrass Technologies off 95th Street in KS. My boss, the Controller and I went to some local place that made Chicken Tenderloin sandwiches.....about an hour after getting back to work I set a new world land speed record running to the bathroom which was at the back of the building at that time. I don't think I left that room for 2 hours....finally when I was able to get back to my desk my boss said he was going home because he wasn't feeling well and thought he would check on me before he left.

I barely got home myself before another episode of everything coming out of both ends started....my wife called her mom who was an ER nurse and told her to give me pedialyte to keep my electrolytes up. I wasn't able to go back to work for 2 days.

[listopencil]

Had pork chops for dinner one night many years ago. Threw up nine times, and I just about never throw up. It became known as The Night of the Nine Pukes in our house. It was rarely spoken of because my wife was an excellent cook and she was pretty sensitive about it. It was upsetting at first. After three or four times I was laughing and joking about it because it just became absurd to me.

[Mama Hip Rockets]

I got food poisoning from a chicken fried steak at Village Inn on Christmas Eve. I was up all night puking every ten minutes on the clock. I would estimate that I threw up at least 50 times that night and got basically no sleep. While we were opening presents on Christmas, I just lay there and finally slept a little bit. Haven't stepped within 100 yards of a Village Inn since.

[Dave Lane]

Sugar-free gummy bears. Food poisoning after this is a walk in the park.

[Fire Me Boy!]

Originally Posted by Dave Lane

Sugar-free gummy bears. Food poisoning after this is a walk in the park.

That's not food poisoning. That's sugar alcohol - a laxative.

[lcarus]

Mine was a Chick-Fil-A sandwich a few years ago. I used to eat there often. Havent been back since. I got pretty ill.

[Baby Lee]

Originally Posted by listopencil

Had pork chops for dinner one night many years ago. Threw up nine times, and I just about never throw up. It became known as The Night of the Nine Pukes in our house. It was rarely spoken of because my wife was an excellent cook and she was pretty sensitive about it. It was upsetting at first. After three or four times I was laughing and joking about it because it just became absurd to me.

[Baby Lee]

Originally Posted by Dave Lane

Sugar-free gummy bears. Food poisoning after this is a walk in the park.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DE4GWWY...buzz0f-20&th=1

Originally Posted by My Dinner with Andrea

I'm pretty sure Andrea (I'll call her) agreed to have dinner at my apartment only because I always spoke to her using nothing but my two-years-of-high-school German. Her English was perfect. Probably better than mine. But the fact that I could only ask her directions to the Autobahn or inquire about the health of her non-existent Tante Amelia, seemed to make me appealing to her in a sweet and non-threatening way.
My intentions, however, were considerably less child-like. Which is why the shopping that night was done at one of those upscale groceries with an international flair. Moules Marinieres is as much of a panty-peeler as anything I can cook, and isn't that hard to pull off. But still, I was busy tracking the recipe in my head when I found myself in the sweets aisle. And that, to my great chagrin, is why I didn't immediately notice the difference between Haribo Normal Gummi Bears (which are designed for human enjoyment) and Haribo Sugarless Gummi Bears (which are designed for use in maximum security prisons as a way to punish uncooperative inmates).
I shan't make that mistake again. (notice you can't spell SHAN'T without SHAT.)
Prior to Andrea's arrival, I sat in my living room, creating a playlist of make-out music and nervously binging on the Gummi Bears I had placed in a decorative bowl because I am fancy.
The doorbell rang, and within minutes we were standing in the kitchen, drinking beers and both of us probably worrying that we were about to exhaust my ability to communicate in her native tongue. But soon that would be the least of my worries. In the middle of trying to ask Andrea if she likes to dance to young people's music, I felt a flutter in my midsection, accompanied by a guttural pronouncement so loud it threatened to drown out my own voice.
Maybe it was because I was mentally refreshing my language lessons, but it suddenly struck me how much pre-diarrheal grumblings sound like German words.
"ENTSCHULDIGUNG!" was the next thing uttered by my rapidly clenching stomach. Appropriately, Andrea looked up in response.
"Sind Sie Kaffee machen?" she asked.
Am I making coffee?
I thought I must have mistranslated her at first, then finally I realized that yes, the loud, ominous gurgling coming from my gut could easily be mistaken for the percolating of some bachelor's crappy coffeemaker.
It's remarkable how quickly one knows that one is about to have a traumatic pottymaking experience. Maybe that's the body's way of buying you the precious seconds you need. I was already calculating the number of steps to the bathroom, speculating on whether I would have time to lift the lid to the toilet, when my own voice cried out loudly in my head.
She's going to hear EVERYTHING!
Thanks to an acoustical idiosyncrasy in my building, the hallway outside the bathroom works as an amplifier pointed straight at my living room-slash-kitchen. So that somehow even the gentlest tinkle sounds like I'm pouring lemonade out of a bucket.
With only half an idea of what I was doing, I grabbed Andrea's hand and pulled her roughly down onto my sofa. I must have looked like a madman as I booted up my iTunes playlist, plugged in the gigantic new headphones I had just bought to keep me looking young and hip, and clamped them down over her ears. (the sweat forming on my brow and upper lip couldn't have helped.) In response to her nervous expression, I kept shouting "You'll love this! You'll love this!"
I spun her around so that she was looking out the window. My "plan" was that she'd be so distracted by the modest 4th floor view, that it would allow me to pull my pants off while I sprinted down the hall, silently singing the praises of the noise-reducing quality of my new headphones. (this story will be reprinted in its entirety as a 5 star review on the Sony Beats Audio Amazon page.)
As I slammed the bathroom door shut, already half naked, it occurred to me that I had not been shouting "You'll love this!" at Andrea. I don't even know how to say that in German. In my desperation I had been saying "Ich Leibe Dich!" Repeatedly professing my love for her in a shaky and frantic voice. But maybe that was a good thing, because as I threw myself at the toilet, I figured the best I could hope for is that she would be so creeped-out that she would sneak out of the apartment, blissfully unaware of the carnage taking place in the next room.
What can I say about the ensuing white-knuckle bowel movement that hasn't been expressed in other reviews on this page? I'm pretty sure I haven't seen the adjective "Kafkaesque" used anywhere else.
By the end of Act One of this private little torture-porn movie, I was confessing to every unsolved crime in history. Praying I would stumble upon the one that would satisfy my invisible captors.
Quickly I realized that I had more than Andrea's sense of sound to worry about. Were she to get even the faintest whiff of the weapons-grade sluice that my anus was angrily shouting into the porcelain, I would have to change my name and move to another city.
And so I flushed. And flushed. And flushed and flushed.
And then I flushed and nothing happened.
I have never looked down into a broken toilet with more horror in my entire life. And I once stopped up George Clooney's crapper! (a true story for another time.)
I reached for the plunger, but my hand froze and my heart seized when I saw it on the floor, broken in two and covered in what looked like teeth marks. Apparently I had used the wooden handle to keep from biting my tongue off and had chewed clean through it. When did that happen? It seems my mind had already started the process of repressing this entire event.
Amid the feverish, fruitless dance I did across my tiny bathroom floor, it dawned on me that it had been more than a minute since my last soul-wrenching anal tantrum. Dear Lord, is it over? I asked, quite possibly aloud.
I may have been light-headed and delusional, but I began to imagine a non-ignominious resolution to this ordeal. I just needed to get her the hell out of here. If Andrea hadn't fled the building, vomiting in terror, then I supposed I could pull up my trousers and make a cavalier exit. As long as I could get her off premises and as far away from this post-apocalyptic commode as humanly possible. Assuming that the Diarrhistas had retreated to the hills temporarily, maybe I could even whisk Andrea away to a candlelight dinner at Bernardo's. How impulsive!
My first few steps back toward the living room were tentative. And not just because my sphincter felt raw and tattered. It was a slow approach to the Moment of Truth, especially when I saw her figure still planted on my sofa. I knew any look on Andrea's face other than her mouth agape would constitute a miraculous victory. And when she smiled at me, the wash of relief that engulfed me was more glorious than any throes of ecstasy I might have wished for at the beginning of the night.
And then I saw it.
The decorative bowl sitting in her lap. Down to just the last few sugarless Gummi bears.
"Du hast Haribo!" she said to me. Accompanied by a satisfied smile. A big, beaming Hansel and Gretel smile, that slightly turned down in one corner at the sound we both suddenly heard. A low rumble from deep within her GI tract that sounded like Gefahrrrrr.
The German word for Danger.
Her eyes shot past mine and refocused on the bathroom door just down the hall behind me.

[kcpasco]

I ate Taco Bell at 2am one time. The beans were cold but I didn't give a crap because I was drunk. Pissed out my ass for 3 days.

[Dartgod]

I was on a flight from Los Angeles to Chicago once and they served a meal, a choice between fish and steak. I chose the fish and shortly after eating it, I started feeling sick.

Pretty soon everyone on the plane who ate fish became violently ill, including the pilot and co-pilot. They were both so bad neither could fly the plane. In the end, some ex-fighter pilot had to land the plane in Chicago.

I thought for sure we were all going to die in a fiery crash.

[kcpasco]

Yeah don't ever eat airplane food. And always get your drink from a can or bottle without ice.

[Eureka]

As I was puking my guts up in the toilet I crapped my pants very violently. I just rolled over into the bathtub. Anyone done the tuck and roll into the bathtub?

[Frazod]

Originally Posted by Dartgod

I was on a flight from Los Angeles to Chicago once and they served a meal, a choice between fish and steak. I chose the fish and shortly after eating it, I started feeling sick.

Pretty soon everyone on the plane who ate fish became violently ill, including the pilot and co-pilot. They were both so bad neither could fly the plane. In the end, some ex-fighter pilot had to land the plane in Chicago.

I thought for sure we were all going to die in a fiery crash.

Surely you can't be serious?

[GloucesterChief]

Water. Grand Teton National Park.