Housekeeping: 1) We collectively lost 2,559 lbs in our DietBet, so we’re keeping the momentum rolling with a new one. You can sign up here. 2) Today is Talk Like a Pirate Day. I did a guest post over at Melissa & Doug. 3) Also, you guys are really, really funny.
I left a piece of me in Guatemala. What? Oh yeah, like a piece of my heart and like, love and my emotions and stuff (truly), but I also mean literally. I think I left the lining of my stomach there. Thanks to everyone who suggested a bevy of pharmaceuticals and old wives’ solutions alike to remedy my perpetual motion sickness. I had hoped that they would all work, since 1) being sick is gross and 2) I was traveling with a lot of people I didn’t know. No one wants to be the Puke Kid at camp, know what I mean?
One time I was the Girl with the Bloody Nose at the bus stop, and those kinds of labels don’t go away easily.
Anyway, medication was no match for the rough terrain of the hills of Guatemala. The roads were bananas. And when you start to get motion sick, the feeling sort of starts in your stomach and rises to your chest, and I was sitting in our van, pushing against my sternum. So no, I wasn’t being weird at all around my eight colleagues and Guatemalan guides.
“You look sick. I think you should sit in the front.” This was a win-win for the gentleman to my left, because now he looks like he’s being a nice guy, but really he just doesn’t want me to vomit on his shoes. I get it.
They beckon me to move up while the driver is taking the van off some sweet jumps (Napoleon Dynamite reference), so now I’m hip checking everyone as I’m climbing over the seats like an animal. “Sorry, so sorry. I’m sorry. I like your hair. Sorry.” I’m in the front seat, but it’s too late. I ask the interpreter if he could tell our driver to pull over.
Soy enferma. Wait, did I say that right? I’m sick, like about to be ill. Not sick, like those sociopaths that like skinning squirrels for funsies.
Van stops, door swings open, someone barrel rolls out ahead of me, and I jump out, not before saying OMG OMG NOBODY TURN AROUND AND LOOK AT ME. I briskly walk a couple hundred feet and hope I’m hiding behind some shrubs. It’s beautiful here . Hilly and lush and green.
Oh, look at that tree. That is a nice tr— WHARRLBGARGGBL.
I was too embarrassed to actually vomit (some guy was harvesting corn not fifty yards away). So I dry-heaved (which sounds awesome), did the walk of shame back to the van, and properly puked later, in the privacy of my own hotel room.
The hills are alive… with like, bile, and maybe some of my DNA.