This is the text from an email I sent my coworkers. It turned into more of a writing project than I thought it would, so I thought, "Hey, I haven't written on my blog in a while, I think il post it there." Boom. So here you go.
---x---
Hi everybody,
I had an awesome time in Italy. I learned a lot about why Europe has such a lower rate of diabetes and other lifestyle-related diseases, despite most people not giving two craps about whether or not something has gluten or sugar in it. I also learned something about the bread in Italy that makes a big difference when it comes to gut health. I can't wait to tell you all about it!
On the airplane home, I sat next to a really annoying lady who started talking to me even though I was trying to watch like five movies back to back. So that was fun. I got so obsessed with trying to finish my Seth Rogen movie marathon that I forgot to shut off the recycled air jet thing that one can only assume is put there to spray viruses and other nasty pathogens in your face under the guise of keeping you cool. I will admit it felt nice to have a cool breeze cutting through the tepid thickness of the cabin air full of strangers' hot farts as we flew over the Atlantic for what seemed like an eternity. But now I am paying for it.
Thursday I had a sore throat and runny nose. Seems like a 1-day thing, right? I kept flashing back a few days to a gritty street in Naples, where I vividly remember seeing a man sneeze in what seemed like slow motion. I could see the cloud of water droplets swirl outward from his scrunched-up old-man-sneeze-face, and Elizabeth cringed as spit-water droplets fell on her arm. I have no idea what Italians say to someone who has just sneezed, and I did not say "bless you," as I would to someone who actually speaks English. Looks like karma didn't like that.
Friday, I felt a little better, so I went out to eat with my wife and her parents at the Elegant Farmer. During dinner my nose started running, and I feared for the safety of my deviled eggs and family. I ran to the bathroom every five minutes to evacuate my nasal passages, but I'm sure it just looked like I had the green apple quick-steps to the room full of socially-conscious east Memphians (who no doubt had well-developed palates) who were also eating there that night. A well-dressed woman sniffed her glass of wine as if to taunt my inability to smell, as I walked by her table on what must have been my eleventh trip to the bathroom.
Saturday, I felt so much worse, which chest congestion making me wonder if pneumonia could happen that fast, or maybe it was just the flu. A hemorrhagic flu. I started to think about that crazy nurse woman from Maine who, after visiting West Africa to treat Ebola patients, refused quarantine! The hubris of me!
Elizabeth made me take cough syrup after I refused to use the Neti pot. If you don't already know about Neti pots, imagine pouring salt water up your nose and then watching all the funk come out. Didn't seem fun in that moment. Although I usually steer clear of Western Medicine, I sipped that sizzerp like I was Three 6 Mafia. Or maybe I chugged it like Miley Cyrus when she thinks her dad is looking. I feel much better now, and it would be safe to assume that what I'm writing now is powered by cough syrup.
I'm back at work tomorrow, because if I'm not better after 5 days of jet-lag-induced yuck, there is something seriously wrong and you better call the Ebola police. Thankfully my sessions are light and it's more phone calls and emails than anything else. So if you don't see me much tomorrow, chances are I'll be in an office drinking cough syrup and sending insane emails.
- GB
P.S.
I don't have Ebola.
