Wednesday, June 01, 2005

HOME

So I'm back from Guatemala. I guess you can say 'we' are back. As E put it...when I was freaking out as he kindly stuffed my dirty, clay covered flip flops into his suitcase when packing up to leave, "Um...we live together. I'll think I'll be able to return these to you...real soon." I think I was just crabby it was all ending. My mother has a theory that vacation really ends the moment you pack the flips flops in the suitcase. And I think it's really true.

Guatemala is amazing although as usual when I return from a trip I am at a loss for words as to my experience. Today at the office I managed to spit out a few stories full of yucks mixed in with a few gross TMI details to quickly disperse my co-workers from the coffee cluster by my desk and send them back to their cubes with all too descriptive images of me suffering from violent diarrhea while simultaneously puking into a gorgeous Guatemalan mosaic tiled tub.

Getting sick in a foreign place SUCKS. The 'drug store' ie: wooden shack sells spooky, glossy pills that look like bath beads and not the Alleve you know and love. You just feel like total ass and contemplate the fact you may in fact have to go to one of those nearby remote village hospitals that just yesterday you took a photo of while nudging your partner like, 'Can you believe this joint?' By most standards I'm sure those places are fine. But by vivid imagination standards they are not. Dirty sheets. Dirty needles. Foaming at the mouth dogs running through the empty, flickering light halls of some place that smells. Luckily, I didn't have to fulfill that reality nor the fantasy. Despite me moaning and clutching my stomach before the taxi came to pick us up E was right. It was time to go home.

Luckily the plane ride was sooo smooth AND we got bumped to biz class. For the record...I DO NOT FLY WELL ON AIRPLANES. I am not a relaxed passenger. I freak out. I think we are about to die at any second. When asked if we'd like biz class I consider this a trick question. What does this REALLY mean? Do you know something I don't know? Is my weight at the front of the plane crucial for reasons only you know? No matter biz class or regular I consider the fact that I will be the person going down just as someone is stuffing KFC into their face on my left and someone's baby shits their pants on my right and all this happening as episode after episode of 'Everybody Loves Raymond' plays until we are done. Perhaps it's best I shut up.

Regardless I am glad to be home. And now I will stop blogging because I've just gone through half a glass of water while typing this only to just now notice a beetle at the bottom of the glass. Home sweet home.

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