I started feeing sick sometime last night.
Unusually, I woke up well before my alarm went off. A little bit of indigestion? Maybe the onions? I went back to sleep.
The nausea slowly grew in strength, but I held steady. I had invited three of my colleagues to eat with me at a restaurant called L'avant gout (Foretaste). They are always eager to find new restaurants, and so I was looking forward to their reaction.
I didn't make it through lunch.
The nausea grew to a fever pitch sometime before the starter arrived. I had deftly avoided drinking an aperitif, but eating food is generally something of an obligation in restaurants. I stared at the soup. Perhaps it would soothe my stomach. Perhaps, but I knew I couldn't make it through the entire meal. I excused myself; my co-workers graciously offered to take care of everything. And I walked up the street to the Place d'Italie metro stop.
Four minutes to wait for the train.
In four minutes there is time to reverse half a day of your eating and drinking. Unfortunately, the people who will soon by your fellow travelers are able to hear and watch it. Fortunately, however, Parisians are very good at ignoring people in their immediate vicinity.
After another trip to the toilet and hours of sleep, I am happy to report my recovery from this morning's malaise. But thanks to my afternoon in bed, I am now up at 4 A.M.
Tomorrow, or rather today, I will have a different problem to grapple with.
No comments:
Post a Comment