Germ warfare

This was supposed to be an entry about our first house guest and what a great time we had while he was here, showing him the sights, introducing him to local cuisine, staying out far too late on a Monday night and regretting it the next morning. But that's not how this story goes.

Our friend Jared came into town around 6:30 Monday night after spending a few days at the Berlin Film Festival, where he says he was doing work, but I think he was just partying. He had just planned a quick visit to London on his way back to New York, so he could see us briefly and see how we were settling in. After picking him up at Liverpool Station and dragging his enormous bag back to our apartment, I set out a spread of whatever we had in available in our fridge (pickled garlic, cheese, and stuffed grape leaves...not bad for having just moved in) and we had a bottle of our favourite cheap champagne. We then took Jared for a stroll down Brick Lane, which is when it hit Leo. He excused himself for the moment to head back to the apartment, since his stomach was churning. He told us to continue our walk and pick a place for dinner, where he'd hopefully meet us later. So we walked, and we walked, to the end of Brick Lane, and back, looking in every restaurant along the way. When we finally heard from Leo, he sounded weak and told us to eat without him. After a quick and delicious Bangladeshi dinner, we headed home to hang out with our fallen comrade. Back at the apartment, Leo was not well. When we offered him some of our leftovers, he grew pale. Every 10 minutes, he'd run for the bathroom. He then had to go lie down, leaving Jared and I to chat a bit before we both decided to go to sleep.

Leo kept passing out, waking up with a start, running to the bathroom, sluggishly returning to bed and passing out again. Then, around 1 in the morning, I started feeling bad. I thought I must just be suffering from sympathy pains, but eventually I was on the same bathroom routine as he was (luckily about 5 minutes apart). This went on until Jared left at about 7 in the morning to get to the airport. Leo and I were wrecked. We both called in sick. We were in bed until about 1 p.m. We couldn't eat. We drank as much water as our bodies would allow us. We had conversations about going to the store to pick up some supplies, but couldn't make it off of the couch. We watched episode after episode of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia," just so we could claim to be doing something. Our bodies ached. It seemed we'd never be well again.

This morning, however, the pain in our stomachs lifted. Though exhausted, we've both made it into work. Hopefully we won't infect anyone. And hopefully that will never happen again.