1 post from 2001

-----Original Message-----
From: Greg L. Richardson
[mailto:Greg.Richardson@iName.com]
Sent: Thursday, April 26, 2001 3:21 PM
To: Greg.Richardson@iName.com
Subject: Priceless . . .

"Fresh" Marlin Tacos on the Beach?: 22 Pesos
Ticket from Mazatlan to Nogales?: 500 Pesos
Vomiting into a paper sack in front of strangers on a bus in a foreign country?: Priceless

"How was the trip to Mazatlan?" is a question I expect to be asked repeatedly in the next few weeks. To that end, I'd prefer to get this out in a mass email and hopefully avoid putting either of us through the rigors of this story too many times.

My favorite/most despised part of the entire trip was a little family-run taqueria on the beach where they sold the world's best "fresh" Marlin tacos. Please note the quotation marks enveloping the word "fresh." They were the most wonderfully succulent little nuggets of happiness wrapped up in a home-made flour tortilla that a person could imagine.... That was until one wasn't cooked well enough.

You've all probably heard the seeming mantra of travelers to and fro' our Southern neighbors that goes something like "don't drink the water". Congratulations, folks, for the understatement of the year. To this end, we're still not sure if it was the tacos, the gulps of the near-Tropical Pacific Ocean I gleefully ingested whilst positioning myself to body-surf, the water from the shower that was possibly absorbed through the nasty ocean-rock cut on my foot, but somehow, someway, some little bacteria or amoeba entered my body.

Never in my life have I experienced a body so completely at war with itself. In go half-cup of water, out come half-cup of water. This in-and-of-itself wasn't too horrible, but for the less squeamish in the audience, there was a fair amount of blood in everything that came back out (later, I would come to find out that this nasty little bug had perforated my large intestine and facilitated an infection there). This, combined with the immediate and thorough effects of dehydration in an biological environ that refused all liquid intake and was surrounded by 90- to 100-degree heat caused me to take serious notice of my condition (that is, to the extent that my mental capacity would allow for such pleasant eccentricities such as "taking notice" of anything).

Secondly, our hotel room, without running water, was gaining a certain combination of perfunctory smells specific only to the third-world countries wherein considerable digestive processes have gone awry.

Fortunately, my then-able-bodied-comrade, Marcus Montgomery, was able to rally and get an ambulance to take me to the emergency room. As liquid and electrolyte intake became possible only through intravenous means, I was set up with an IV and the assistance to my now quadrupled white-blood-cell count was en route.

It required the remaining 4 of our six days in Mazatlan to get my counts back to normal and to get the newly created and discovered hole in my large intestine to repair. All further plans (Puerto Vallarta, para-sailing, Cuban cigars, etc...), postponed indefinitely.

Time to turn-tail and make quick egress to our sweet, beloved country....

Marcus bought a pair of tamales that tasted wonderfully to him as we boarded the bus in Sinaloa. A couple of hours later, It became I that was now the comparative "healthy one". Now enter the regurgitation. Poor Marcus began mocking my previous success (or should I say lack thereof) in completing the digestive process. You've never lived until you've sat next to your seemingly only living friend and source of all things translatable, puking into a sack while the natives restlessly shift in their seats. I, who just love to vomit the moment I smell another's, was doing my best to console him and pat him on the back while keeping my shirt balled up in front of my face and nose to ensure that I would forestall catching any wafts of that aroma which were certain to illicit the same response from me.

Imagine a country with no 4th Amendment to the constitution. Such would be the makings of a police-state wherein an uncoordinated law enforcement brigade would be at the mercy of their own discretion regarding "unreasonable" search and seizure. �Viva Mexico!

We got pulled over no less than SIX times in one 45-minute stretch so that all persons, luggage (carry-on and check-in) could be inspected for traveling papers and/or illicit substances. This all-the-while trying to help the buddy puke accurately and consistently into the sack, keep the shirt over the face and mentally hold up to the rigors of the 20-hour 100-degree bus ride. . . .

All told, the trip was eleven days. 5 of which were in transit, 6 of which were at Mazatlan. Of the 6 at Mazatlan, 2 were spent recreating and 4 were in the hospital (at a personal expense to me of $1200, due to some insurance issues).

Currently, Marcus is feeling worlds better and is back to eating like his former hyper-gluttonous self. I've been back in town about 90 minutes now and love this country with previously unforeseen passion. I'm feeling better but am on a strict saltine cracker/jell-o/Gatorade /medicine diet for the next 6 days. Cost Benefit Analysis? I spent a total sum of ~$2000 for two days on a beach. I now need a vacation worse than I ever have. . . . .

REALLY glad to be home,

- Greg