Losing consistency is never pretty.

The ugly truth about consistency is if and when you have an inconsistency, it comes thundering towards you with bells, whistles and clown cars.  I myself have been very consistent with at least one thing. I have only been sick once from traveling and it was on the way home that I got sick. This is a feat I felt good about. I felt that this run was mine to take and hold up! Hold it tightly and remind myself I had this good fortune through wise decisions and the occasional reliance on a power bar instead of a real meal.

 

Well, last night I was visited by the evil bastard clowns from the circus known as : “Wake up and puke all night….NO! You’re not done yet my little princess, we have a second act lined up too!”

I have never in my memory thrown up so hard that my sinuses became way stations for my last meal. Blowing rice out of your nose is…well, oddly invigorating when it’s curried rice. After a few moments it shifts off odd and intrusive to just plain painful and unnecessary really.

 

Sure, sure, you don’t want read about this, but it happened and you have no choice. If  I only wrote about the cuddly or the mind opening….well…I would get pretty damn boring now wouldn’t I?

 Where was I? Oh yes…rice packed sinuses. As I expelled my dinner like a child during an exorcision, I thought to myself. This is not cool.  Really, it wasn’t cool. I was beginning to wonder where the hell all this food came from? I mean really I began to imagine my entire intestinal tract running in reverse! Aware of what this would mean towards the end of the line I began to get nervous. Actually I already was nervous but I would have acted like I wasn’t if someone was there trying to help me.

 

I knew I was not going to be happy when I first lay down to sleep, I felt very cold. My room is heated at night and stays pretty consistent (loving that word right now) around 70F, last night I was shivering. I grabbed and extra blanket, I put on my thermals, I was freezing. This only means that bad things are plotting against you.

 

 On my third trip at full sprint to the toilet something VERY bad happened. Alarms from other areas started to go off. Lower areas. These are the alarms that are not ignored by the wise.

Now panic set in. It was too far to lean into the sink and honestly a rounded basin was asking for a ricochet or some sort of bank shot action from the sheer force and back pressure we (you’re here now with me. Cant you feel it?) were likely going to be dealing with. AND lets not forget about that danger creeping up on my 6 O’clock.

I believe it was “Ox” a fighter pilot based in Kunsan AFB (South Korea) back in 1987 when I was there living with my mother who impressed upon me this quote: “Always watch your 6!”

My six was not my friend at the moment, so wasn’t talking to it. I was however impressed with its show.  I was swearing at it but not waiting for a response to be honest. It had its chance to be nice to me and it wasn’t. I will skip the jaw dropping details from that side of my adventure, so I will fast forward a bit…. I skulked downstairs, woke up the guard and got a liter of mineral water. Hoping, praying that I would not go biblical plague on the poor man. Bottle in hand I knew I had to replace at least the fluid I was so successful in removing from myself.  Slowly I began to drink the water.

 

The Pakistanis (or at least my hotel), use some high-grade trash bags. It sounds like I am digressing but stay with me, because once I made it back to my feet from trip four…I felt pretty damn good. Comparatively of course. I laid down in bed and pulled all 40lbs of blankets on me and tried like hell to get warm. I guess I fell asleep because I woke up Just in time to play fire hose and house fire with my bottled water into the plastic trashcan. Honestly guys, it was almost comic how bad I felt.

When both guns are firing you can only hope you have targets for both. I now had my new best friend. My trashcan.

Trashcan and I talked several times throughout the night. We spoke of many things but our conversations are private and we will not disclose them to you or anyone. Trashcan and I…well we worked well together. I asked one thing of him and he provided UNFAILING service to me. He asked only that I not miss and blame him.

As if I could ever hate him?

 

I finally passed out sometime around 3 am or so. Waking up to my alarm at 745 am letting me know that the clowns had left but they didn’t clean up after themselves. They never do. I called my driver to tell him that 9am was off and lets meet at 1130am.

Ever so polite Mr. Niaz said no problem.

I face planted it back into my bed and woke up at 1130. Mr. Niaz is a punctual man. I felt bad for making him wait but I wasn’t going to be moving very fast today. So I began to get ready. My head hurt, my gut was trying to say something and that area we spoke about earlier wanted me know that I was not done. Nope, not done. I was just given a short break before I played anther game of “deargodmakeitstop!” Once my cries were heeded; I took a long hot shower. While in the shower I became aware of a few bruises that were quite new. Good ones too. I was impressed at my ability to cause so much destruction by choosing the wrong restaurant.

 

I met with Mr. Niaz and told him over my noon meal of toast and tea, that I was not in my best shape but we would try to get some good shots today. I was very happy to see me dump my re-hydration salts into my huge bottle of water and told me that I should not eat butter with my toast today. He was right but I survived.

 

As the day went on, we shot portraits of motorcycle mechanics and shop owners. One of the mechanics was 10 years old! It’s a damn shame but it is how it works here. He seemed to be taken care of well enough, his boss liked him and said he is a great mechanic…I don’t know it still bothered the hell out of me.

The smell of oil, gasoline and solvents was making my entire GI tract fight for the honor of first expulsion so we left. I finally finished that nasty tasting water with the re-hydration salts only to have Mr. Niaz remind me that I needed at least one more water and that I should only have rice. Plain rice and MAYBE some yogurt, if I felt up to it.

On the way home while I began to pass out in the car, he invited me to have lunch in his home tomorrow.

I sure hope I am firing on all 8 cylinders tomorrow. I would be horrified if I threw up a meal made for me by his family. It would not shine well upon me to visit his home and paint his bathroom walls immediately following lunch.

 

I feel like a train hit me so I will post this, check my email and go back to bed by 7pm.

 

 

I am feeling better, just really tired and empty. I quite sure I lost a few pounds while having me fun last night.