We had a similar experience in my family once, when we were on vacation at the shore. Some vacation. My poor mother still had to cook for ten people every night (God Bless Her) in the 3 bedroom house we rented (one br for the girls, one for the boys and one for the parents)
Long story short, she bought what turned out to be very rancid dried beef at a seashore butchery and made cream dried beef on toast for dinner.(Oh God, if only we'd been a "chili" kind of family) Both my parents, along with every single one of us 8 kids threw up during that long, hot, horrible summer night. Not a one of us kids made it to the bathroom in time to do the deed, either. Ah, and the memory of the smell still brings a gag to my throat and chills to my spine. It was that wretched, debilitating, disgusting kind of vomiting, especially if you had rolled over into your sister's like I did, because we were sharing a double bed. Big splats of vomit lay like like slippery booby traps to us unsuspecting ones who slept a little longer and missed the first nauseous wave. Desperately clenching our stomachs, we stumbled down the dank, dark hallway leading to the lone bathroom at the end of the hall. Like you, switters, I can still see myself as a precocious 9 year old, laying in that long hallway, shrieking "WTF?" because I was already covered in my sister's vomit and now I had just slipped and fallen into my brother's. I remember looking up and seeing my mother moaning, with her head on the kitchen table. WTF? Where was my father? Out puking off the back porch, I later learned.
Needless to say it's taken years of therapy to finally be able to deal with the trauma of that night, and the smell of noxema still haunts me in nightmares. Noxema, you ask? Did I mention that was my mother's cure for sunburn?