Before we left on this trip, Troy and I were having a conversation that I am sure, if I could remember the subject now, would probably be embarrassing. The one notable exchange came when Troy busted out the line:

“Just another statistic, man. Just another statistic.”

Then it occurred to me:

“I’m still a statistic, dude. I didn’t get hit by a bus today. I haven’t done heroin. I’m part of the good statistic!”

Anyway, we all laughed. Maybe you had to be there.

I was part of the crappy statistic two nights ago, when I came down with a moderate case of Delhi belly. Without getting overly graphic, I had a nightmare session in the squat toilet, and two hours later I almost didn’t make it back to the bathroom in time to vomit. I’ve been dragging my butt around since then.

Schlepping my butt to the Wagah border for the flag crossing ceremony

It’s a little embarrassing to be the first in the group to get sick. I take great pride in my strong immune system and even stronger stomach. The fact that no one else got sick means I did something wrong somewhere. It likely was not something I ate, as others around me were eating the same things.

Troy snaps me putting on a reasonably brave face.

Thankfully, Troy shared his immodium with me, and Lauren and Todd from even gave me some cipro. They are my new BFFs 4 eva.

The lesson here, kids, is to come prepared better than I was. I was cocky. I was positive I wouldn’t need any sort of drugs to help me in a pinch, and as a result, I was at the mercy of my co-riders willingness to dip into their own resources to help me.

Short version: when riding 12,000 kilometers around India, bring cipro. You might end up like me. Just another statistic, man.

This was the best photo I got from the ceremony, sadly. I gave up on the Golden Temple that night and took a nap instead.