For those following the entire story, you’ll know that violent protests cut Thailand out of the itinerary for our southeast Asia trip. Nearly. My original plans awarded me one night in Bangkok. A night that, unfortunately, I’ll never forget. It’s tough to say what caused the food sickness, but math dictates that it was either the halo-halo from the American-style fast food joint or the sisig (pictured below) from a restaurant in Puerto Princesa owned, against the odds, by a couple from Arizona.
It started on the flight to Bangkok. After boarding, I sat down next to a chatty Filipina woman, and began to feel nauseous. I fled to the plane lavatory just as she announced to me that she was an evangelical Christian. Curled over in the tiny room—as we started our descent—I had visions of my body being jerked upwards with turbulence while simultaneously feeling horrible at the timing of my departure. I didn’t want my friend to think I was avoiding her because she was a Christian. With nothing accomplished in the loo, I headed to my seat to buckle myself in and apologize for leaving mid-conversation. “My stomach hurts,” I explained.
