Heaven done sent me an angel I believe. And yesterday of all days. A Friday night at Mango Tree, brought me, somewhat, out of the five day daze of weight loss and pain. She came down in the form the of purveyor of that fine establishment. It’s right across the street from our dear Padang Padang Inn so we end up eating there all the time. She saw me last night, and I must’ve looked particularly wretched because she asked if I was all right. “I’ve been sick,” I said.
“Oh, no,” said she. “Have some ginger tea. And eat light, fruit and veggies.” So I ordered the Mediterranean salad, which upon seeing it come out probably wasn’t my best bet. It looked delicious, don’t get me wrong, all oily and covered in feta cheese, but I only took one bite before my stomach lurched and found myself floating on stumbling legs to the bathroom in the back. To yack, I thought. The chunder never came though because I spit out the acid like I always do. But my body wasn’t done in there, and I turned bottom-side and let flow with an all too familiar shudder and a whisper, “Fuck.”
When I returned to the table, there was a cup of filmy liquid beside my plate, and as I sat down Mike told me to drink it. “It’s lime water. Her husband said it should kill the bugs inside you.” Through all the grogginess, it made perfect sense. You squirt it on reef rash to kill bacteria. The shit cooks fish for crying out loud. It’s strange and silly to me when those moments of clarity come. One sip felt better than anything I could recently remember, and I thanked her one thousand times.
