Friday, April 29, 2005

What's Spanish for Pepto Bismol?

We arrived in Mexico Saturday afternoon with a song in our hearts as the brightly shining sun lifted our spirits to even greater heights. I didn't even mind being subjected to the tourist shakedown outside Customs, where in return for signing away 2-4 hours of my precious vacation time, I'd get all sorts of free, useless crap.

Afterwards, we scampered on the bus and waited for awhile, and then we hit the resort. And for a day and a half, all I did was eat, lie by the beach, or drink Pina Coladas by the pool. Being surrounded by your girlfriend and good friends is a great tonic for the spirit; doing so while at a resort is like some sort of renewal.

Of course, sometimes, to build something up, you need to do a little tearing down.

For some reason, I decided I needed a big breakfast Monday morning. Generally, I don't eat big breakfasts. A bagel and/or a piece of fruit is perfect, but Monday, the pancakes looked fluffy, the bacon called to me and the sausage was especially spicy and sweet.

And so my stomach rolled and rumbled all day and all night.

Now, while I'm not going to get too graphic here, some of you might not appreciate what I say in the next two paragraphs. Just a little warning.

By about 7:30, I knew we had a problem. One doesn't shiver in 70-degree weather. It just doesn't happen - unless you grew up on the sun. But there I stood shivering and shaking. I crawled into bed after sending Darcy off to enjoy everyone else's company; why ruin her night entirely? And I woke up with about 14-seconds' warning. And I made it too the toilet just in time.

Until last November, the last time I had a really close view of the inside of the toilet bowl was when I caught a monster stomach virus back in '95. I laid on the couch for four days, praying for death while enjoying a 102-degree fever. Last November, I really enjoyed remembering that time as I made it to the toilet just in time to taste breakfast once again. And now, in Mexico, known for its world-class doctors, hospitals and prisons, I was enjoying the three plain flour tortillas a second time, along with the mint tea. Good times, good times.

It's safe to read again.

I enjoyed an evening of fever-induced delirium, radiating heat like a furnace. But at least my stomach was no longer flipping. And by Tuesday morning, I was fine. We even walked into town for a few hours.

Overall, it was a great trip, but I'm happy to be home. At least I know where to find the Pepto.

4 comments:

Dr. Pauly said...

Spanish for Pepto = Jose Cuervo

Farrell said...

I knew we were in trouble as soon as I read the title. Poor Brian. I hope that Darcy nursing you back to health was part of your quick recovery. At least the entire trip wasn't ruined. Any good pics?

Ian said...

Recent research has shown that the incidence of food poisoning is lower in those who imbibe strong alcoholic beverages (i.e. the hard stuff) with their meals. Beer, alas, doesn't seem to offer the same protection. In any case, I just wanted to point out that Dr. Pauly is right on target, and that being a lush can help avoid spending your time staring into a toilet bowl. Oh, wait -- how come every time I get plowed I end up staring into a toilet bowl?

Lisa said...

Been there...done that. Literally.