I’ve been trying to make sure that I do everything right while here in Mexico. I haven’t introduced any invasive species to the environment, I bought a hat to protect my sensitive Minnesotan from the unforgiving Mexican sun,
I don't care what everybody who has seen me in this hat says. This hat is badass. I love this hat.
and most importantly, I haven’t had any tap water.
Everybody knows about the Montezuma’s Revenge. You drink the water and you poop for a week straight. wikipedia even talks about it so you know it’s real (but he was defeated by the Spanish. Shouldn’t this only affect Spanish people?). There’s plenty of bottled water here and our villas have those big water coolers but I’ve just been playing it safe and only drinking booze. I’m just trying to live healthy down here.
"If my empire shall lay in ruins so shall your boxer shorts!"
There’s just one problem. Not only have I so far successfully avoided the revenge of Montezuma, I haven’t pooped once since I arrived on Sunday evening. That’s two and a half days. It doesn’t add up. I’ve been doing nothing but eating fajitas and Pringles (Pringles are huge down here for some reason. They’re everywhere) and drinking rum and tequila. I even had a few beers (which I’m totally not supposed to do). I’ve considered having a glass of tap water just to get things going.
I think I know what the problem is. When I was a kid my family would go camping one or two weekends in the summer every year. It was a lot of fun but I hated the idea of pooping in an outhouse or the woods so I just wouldn’t. From Friday evening to Sunday afternoon I just made the decision to not poop. After doing this a dozen times it got easier and easier until I didn’t even feel the need to when camping. Like a Pavlovian response. Now that I’m in Mexico I think my guts have gone back into camping mode lockdown.
Granted, there are toilets here. I have a bathroom all to myself in the villa. This shouldn’t be a problem but when I first went to the bathroom this sign was on the wall next to the toilet.
Wait... What?
Wait… after I’m done wiping, I’m supposed to take the toilet paper and…
Oh no. No, no no no.
Oh God no. I know I’m in a different culture but seriously? I can’t just throw poopy paper in a waste basket. I pretty much have three options right now.
1. Just not poop until I’m back in the land of the septic tanks that can handle a little Charmin. Hopefully I won’t explode like the fat guy in Monty Python’s Meaning of Life.
2. Find a toilet somewhere around here that can handle toilet paper. There has to be one, right? This can’t just be something that everybody does down here.
3. Man up and work past my weird poop fear (not gonna happen).
I knew I was going to get homesick down here but I didn’t realize I’d miss my bathroom so much.
*UPDATE*
Just pooped. It was alright.