The Woes of Food Poisoning

Don’t get me wrong; I’m all for embracing foreign cultures and mingling with the locals. But the one thing I always worry about when travelling is food poisoning. Initially, I’m the one you’ll see settling for warm drinks even on the hottest day, because I’m avoiding ice; the one washing my hands with bottled water; and using hand sanitiser even if I’m using cutlery.

But it doesn’t last long. By the end of the trip, I figure I’m well-adjusted to the local microscopic flora and fauna and I’ll be drinking fruit smoothies with the best of them.

Unfortunately, things don’t always go to plan. My friend, who is a lot like me in terms of hygiene managed – somehow! – to get food poisoning the night before we flew out, and ended up spending the morning of our return hunched over the toilet.

As I’m a food nut, my main focus was how she’d have to eat bland food at least until the antibiotics kicked in and the nausea subsided. The following is a poem/song about her experience.

The Woes of Food PoisoningSung to the tune of Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina

It wasn’t easy, I went insane
abstaining from full-flavoured meals.
A burden of illness brought on by bad food.

I couldn’t help it,
All I could feel was the nausea
rising up from my poor belly’s depths,
Threatening to let the food flow.

I couldn’t let it happen, I had to take
what was flavourless and savourless and plain.
Refusing curries with spices, and raisins with rum.

So I ate tasteless,
Nibbling at crumbs, and feeling so blue.
And nothing impressed me at all.
I never expected it to.

Chorus
I want to eat spicy pizza!
The truth is I’m sick of light food.
All through my mild days,
My bland subsistence,
I spurned great flavours,
A sad existence.

And as for sickness and food pois’ning
I never invited them in
though it seemed to my mum I had welcomed them.

I was stupid.
I wasn’t careful with food bought offshore.
I neglected to check the hygiene
and for some days had to eat like a bore.

Chorus
I want to eat spicy pizza!
The truth is I’m sick of light food.
All through my mild days,
My bland subsistence,
I spurned great flavours,
A sad existence.

Have I said too much?
I think I’ve said enough to put you off your food.
All you have to do now is check your meals,
And not let every mouthful through.

Insert orchestral conclusion Here.

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