Gun Fights and Food Poisening

A couple of weeks ago, I went to Tombstone with some friends. I have been several times, but never when I could afford to participate in the recreations, museums and other such touristy trap money pits. So LeeAnn, Juliana, and I drove down, in my car, early one Saturday morning to experience all the gun toting, saloon gambling, horse rustling glory.

The trip started off well, we arrived safely and bought our tickets to all the shows. We started off watching a Doc Holiday impersonator tell us about the “good” Doctor while teaching us to play a game called Faro. It is a card scam that consists of getting the players completely drunk, distracting them with stories and local “color” while you shamelessly cheat them out of their money. My two friends were recruited to participate, while I watched and took pictures. About half-way through the show I began to feel very ill. The sensation grew worse until I finally jumped up and made tracks for the closest garbage can outside of the corral, where the show was taking place. I stood over the trash can for a minute or two when it happened. My head began to spin, my knees grew week, and “bam” I hit the ground. I remained prostrate on the ground for a good 30 seconds before I came to. It wasn’t until my head cleared that I realized that I had passed out. I sat up slowly and waited to regain my strength.

I was able to rejoin my friends, and, after explaining what had happened, convinced them that I would be okay as long as I took things slowly. Later, I sat on the sidewalk, watching all the people go by while they did some shopping. Occasionally, another tourist would ask for directions and I would help them out. I was giving directions to one family, from my seated position when I realized how ridiculous I must look. It didn’t matter, I was unable to get up anyway. Once I had managed to baby my way through 6 hours of tourist activities, it was time to go home. Unfortunately, by then I was growing ill again. So, I gave LeeAnn my keys and she drove while I slept the whole 3 hours home, listening to Harry Potter 2 on my iPod.

I was still week on Sunday, so I stayed home from church. Come Monday, I was better and went to work and FHE. At FHE I was approached by half the ward to ask how I was feeling. Clearly, word had gotten out that Leslie had passed out in Tombstone. It didn’t bother me that people knew, what I found disturbing was that no one in Tombstone stopped to ask if I was okay while I lay almost unconscious on the ground. Indeed, chivalry must truly be dead.