Day 13: Hell to the Chief
Because President Bush is staying a few resorts over, there has been heightened security in the area. War ships lurk just off the coast and armed guards in Kevlar vests are stationed along the beach. Traffic is a mess, so we left three hours early for the airport. We got there with no problem and checked in OK, but then Air Force One showed up and the airport shut down. Our flight was delayed an hour while waiting for Bush to show up, board and take off. Gentleman Caller and I had a nonstop flight, so we didn’t have to worry about missing connections. We got airport tacos for lunch (one pork, one chicken) and waited in the crowded airport.
Once we boarded the plane, the trip was uneventful, until landing. Descent was a bit turbulent and both GC and I felt nauseated, then lightheaded as we left the plane. We breezed through customs. By this time, I felt shaky and on the brink of fainting. We thought maybe we got food poisoning from the Cancun airport tacos. On the shuttle to the long-term parking garage, an obese man sat beside me and spilled over onto me. When I'm nauseated, I can't stand being touched, so being crammed into a shuttle exceeding capacity with a fat man smothering me, I was so close to yakking. I extracted myself from underneath him and stood up, gulping for air and trying not to touch anyone. I felt lousy, but didn't get sick. On the drive back home from the airport, I put my seat back and snoozed. When I woke up, I felt 82% better. Gentleman Caller felt nauseated all the way home, but avoided yakking out the window. I made a simple gnocchi in sage-butter sauce with Parmesan cheese for dinner. GC felt better after dinner. I don't know what we caught. It could have been mild food poisoning, or it could have been that leaving Mexico made us sick. The end of vacation is so sad.