Because I refused to pollute the sacred temple that is my body with a 947th slice of pizza in one month, while the kids and Senior Management had a strip mall pizza on the way to the Tampa Zoo, I went next door to a “bowl” restaurant. Here’s my Google Maps review:
The good news is that I now know why Chipotle meals always come out too hot to eat. On 12/22 around 5 pm I ordered a Mediterranean Meze bowl. The chicken was not too hot to eat. By 1:30 am I was camped out in the bathroom. The vomiting began at 2:30 am and I was afraid that I was going to die. By 9:00 am, having been up all night in and out of the bathroom, I was afraid that I wasn’t going to die. It has been 48 hours and I’m still dizzy and lightheaded. I’m guessing Clostridium perfringens is the culprit, based on the Mayo Clinic web site: “Commonly spread when serving dishes don’t keep food hot enough or food is chilled too slowly.”
After submitting this, I noticed the following:
How should learning “identifies as women-owned” change how I feel about the worst food poisoning that I can remember despite having traveled to some moderately out-of-the-way places?
In the same strip mall:
When else in a person’s life would it have been healthier to eat at “Fried Rice King”?
(The food poisoning kept me in the hotel room for about 12 hours, then at home for a day, and I was 90 percent better by Day 3. Fortunately, we had so many stops on the Tampa trip that we’d decided to drive rather than fly the Cirrus. Therefore I was able to travel back to Florida’s east coast as inert cargo in the minivan while at least one kid demanded a bathroom or food break every 45 minutes.)