The last three times I've taken trips spanning more than six time zones, I've ended up getting sick like two days later. I know that jetlag, cramped quarters, Sani-Wipes and adventure films with the word 'hijack' removed are generally bad for your health, but I appear to have a particularly effete constitution in this regard. I spent the entire time in China with a Leonard Cohen throat, park-bench pedophile eyes and sinuses jammed like a Beijing afternoon.
These were ignorable enough, but 24 hours before my flight home, after a night of rural drinking, my symptoms decided to band together and make a 'No on Prop 8!'-style post-emptive assault. They started in the stomach and marched to the rest of my autocratic, coal-burning body, taking capacities and dignities as they went along. My system responded with a Burmese Monk crackdown, shutting off all auxillary function and ceasing any social services related to digestion, wakefulness or erect-walking thought.
Between 2 pm Saturday and 4 pm Monday I didn't eat, spoke exclusively in Palin-tameter and accepted the concepts of 'sitting down' and 'being awake' as mutually exclusive. I genuinely don't remember my entry interview in Paris, though the stamp in my passport indicates it occurred.
I'm better now that I'm back in Copenhagen, but I need to do some serious Web MD-ing to make sure this doesn't happen again next time. Everyone chirps 'vitamin C!' but I've been taking that urine-dye for years and it doesn't seem to make any difference. There's probably some really great Chinese medicine for this, come to think of it, but I was too busy squinting and spasming while I was there to look.
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