In 2005 I went on a missions trip to Acapulco Mexico to partner with some of our church’s missionaries that head up an orphanage there.
We kept busy the entire time with various projects, but one evening we had the opportunity to go to watch some cliff divers. These incredible athletes would climb up 100 feet onto a tiny ledge and then plunge into the Pacific Ocean with style and finesse.
I really wanted to see the performance, but I didn’t feel all that great at the time. Yet I talked myself into going. We had been working so hard and this was our chance to see some of the sites the locals had been raving about.
The place was packed with hundreds of tourist all gathered around hoping to catch a glimpse of the acrobatic stunts. However, just before the show began my stomach started doing some acrobatic stunts of it’s own. I felt really queasy and despite doing everything I could to resist the urge to vomit, my body began to launch projectile chunks over the edge of the rocks. I distinctly remember looking over at the strangers beside me and muttering “I’m sick”. I guess I thought I needed to explain myself? But there was no way out and the show must go on and so did I.
On the way back down the rocky hillside I continued to make “deposits” every few steps. My biggest fear in that moment was that it would start coming out the other end if ya know what I mean. I expressed this concern to my husband and his response was “it’s okay, we will still love you.”
Luckily that didn’t happen (at least not until I reached a bathroom.) I did however have a lot of tourist accuse me of having too much tequila. In the end our whole team came down with montezuma’s revenge because we had tostadas with lettuce that was rinsed in local water. That’s all it took to knock us out.
It’s been 11 years since that trip and I still can’t eat Tostados to this day. Despite all that it was still a really successful trip. One that I will never forget and neither will the strangers next to me on the cliff that night.