Monday, July 29, 2013

Adventures in Intestinal Fun

"Six in the morning on a Sunday," I thought, "seems like a perfectly reasonable time to set off fireworks."

These went on all day long, and well into the night. Then, around three in the morning, I woke up to fireworks of a different kind.

The kind in my gut.

Oh, yippie, I though as I sat flopped down on the tile of the bathroom floor in the middle of the night.

I spend the next day unpleasantly prone or in the bathroom. My lunch had been contaminated. Had the cook used the same uncleaned hands for lettuce and avocado as he'd just used on a raw chicken? Or was it the hand I'd shaken of the guy whose MacBook I'd kept an eye on while he went into the men's room? Or the cut fruit I'd gotten at the market? Bacteria are easy to come by in a world of money and excrement and microbes. Which is everywhere.

On the bright side, this is nothing—NOTHING—like the time I was dramatically ill in Uganda. This is about a 5 on a scale of 1-10 in gut distress.

So I guess I'll live.

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