Pissing my life away

WARNING: MAYBE SOME OF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THIS

My red baseball cap is on the floor of the bathroom in Pollo Campero (Country Chicken fast food joint in Guatemala City). My elbows hurt and so does the back of my head. I hunch over the sink and breath and slowly wash my hands. I stumble out of the bathroom and make it to a chair where I rest a moment. I zip up my pants. I walk to our booth and sit with the three Guatemalans who are with me to pick up the group at the airport in 20 minutes. They tell me I look very white, whiter than usual. I lay down in the booth behind my own and let the blood rush back into my head. My lasagna arrives.

(2 minutes earlier) It's 9:20 pm and I haven't eaten since noon. After nursing a small sweet coffee, I walk into the bathroom to let out some gas and take a whiz. My stomach has been bothering me all day. As I'm urinating, I can feel the blood leave my head from top to bottom. My eyes stop being able to focus. I put a hand on the urinal separator to support myself. I think to myself that the last time I felt this way I fainted, and because I know this I can prevent myself from fainting again.

(9 hours earlier) I'm eating lunch in Honduras; it's one of those tall triple bread sandwiches. I have more than 4 hours of driving to do before I get to Guatemala City. I've spent the morning in my hotel room playing with the kids, watching Wimbledon, and going between the bathroom and the bed. I take an Immodium before getting behind the wheel.

(5 hours earlier) As I lay in bed, I can feel a bit of gas coming on. I consider sitting on the toilet for this one. It's a good thing I do. It's going to be a long morning, perhaps even a long day.