Husband had a very suspicious omelette at Sydney T1 and was crook all the way to LAX. But my story currently holds the family trophy for Worst Case of Food Poisoning before a Flight:
(Ahem.....) It was 2010. Husband and I were departing Vegas that day for a connecting flight home to Sydney. We cruised down the the Miracle Mile where I (foolishly) feasted on a chicken burrito for breakfast. Who does that?
Anyhoo, I began to feel a little nauseous at McCarran Airport, but figured I was tired from the trip and just needed some zzzz before the long haul from LAX. We were flying Delta home, so we tottered into the Delta Lounge where I promptly curled up in an oversized chair to sleep it off. Mr Clipped was bringing all these delicacies back from the buffet and offering his pungent finds under my (now) hyper sensitive nose and stomach. The aromas did their job and I went flying to the toilets, where I spent the rest of the evening.
We boarded late that night and luckily, we were 3 rows from the most rear lavatory in Y. The Captain fired up the turbines, everyone took their seat and the FA's strapped themselves in. Everyone was quiet. So when my bloated belly gurgled and loudly announced it was time to evacuate - well it did just that. I vaulted from my seat and jumped into the lav without touching the floor or locking the door.
My embarrassed husband did what any reasonable passenger would do. He denied knowing me.
The FA's slammed the ABORT button and screamed at me to return to my seat. By now, I was - er, evacuating from all exits. I wasn't exactly in a position to obey them. The pilot was totally pissed and ordered me off the plane. But I was in no position to leave that toilet. After a lengthy time negotiating - I opened the lav door. I will never forget the look on the young cabin steward - who fell backwards as the aromatic fruits of my labour escaped.
They tried in vain to eject me from the flight, but I turned on the waterworks and insisted it was a the burrito's fault. I promised to be a good girl if they let me stay. Which they did. But not before handing me a bottle of water and a large sachet of hand sanitiser. To their credit, they checked on me throughout the flight, where I managed a sweaty and restless evening all the way home. As we descended into Sydney 14 hours later, I was much better. And ravenous. But Mr Clipped refused to let me eat until we arrived home some 2 hours later. He wasn't taking any chances risking servo restrooms along the Pacific Highway......