No more calamari for you!

Train Guy got food poisoning on Saturday night. He was in New York City this past weekend to visit friends and ate some bad calamari. I guess it’s obvious it was “bad” calamari or he wouldn’t have gotten sick would he? He called on Sunday morning sounding just terrible. I can’t imagine being that sick in someone else’s apartment. THIS, among a zillion other reasons, is why I stay in hotels when I travel. In addition to getting that sick away from home, there was the predicament of getting home. I finally persuaded him to catch an Amtrak train instead of the commuter train he took in because the Amtrak trains have bathrooms. Poor Train Guy. There is nothing more humbling than being picked up by a new girlfriend who is well aware that the reason she is picking you up instead of you taking the train to your car is because you’ve spent the past 14 hours throwing up and performing other bodily functions that really shouldn’t be brought up until at least month 6 of dating.

Ahh yes.. food poisoning. I know it well. In fact, it has taken me 3 years to finally be able to eat bacon again. And bacon used to be one of my favorite food groups; bacon, chocolate, coffee and cookie dough. Take away the bacon and the fact I can’t eat sugar anymore and I’m left with coffee.. and only decaf at that. How tragic my life has become. But I digress...

I was living in Cincinnati and there was a Waffle House right around the corner from the office. I had never been to one and after driving by it for the billionth time I decided that I was going to go in for lunch with a co-worker. I got the obligatory waffles and got a side of bacon. By 4 I had to go home and by 6 I was writing out my will. For those who have had food poisoning you know what I mean and for those of you who haven’t, you will. One day, I promise.

The then boyfriend was also having an old college friend in for the weekend. Yes, nothing is more pleasant than having to try to keep the volume down to a minimum while my insides were coming out through various orifices because we had a houseguest. It was awful. I knew it was the bacon too. I’m not sure why I knew it was the bacon and not the waffles but I guess I should be grateful. I’ve probably extended my life by a good ten to fifteen years by cutting out that cured pork product. So, thank you Waffle House!!


Anyway, I survived, he survived and now he wants calamari for dinner. Seriously. I don’t know how he does it. It took me about 6 months before I would even let anyone say the word “bacon” in my presence. He must have a stomach made of iron.