I was pulled out of a deep sleep at 4am when I heard Stevie scream.
My first thought was “Oh shit, someone is breaking into the van.”
I flipped on the light just in time to see Stevie vomit her fish dinner into Kiki’s food bowl.
My second thought was “Oh shit, Stevie’s pregnant.”
SIDE NOTE – In anticipation of getting pregnant I’ve been reading What To Expect When You’re Expecting and I know all about morning sickness.
A split second later she threw open the van door and ran out to the beach. Through the darkness I could see her in the squatting position.
My third thought was “Oh shit, we ate the same thing for dinner. That’s not good.”
It was food poisoning and it was immediately apparent to me that we were both doomed. Food poisoning is something you learn to live with when you travel off the beaten path. Since we’re always off the beaten path we’re getting very used to it…
But this situation was dire. We were sleeping in the van on a remote beach in Ecuador. There were no hotels. There were no bathrooms. The sun would be up soon, meaning that exploding on the beach would be out. I knew once the symptoms hit me we’d be f#cked. The clock was ticking.
Based on difference in body weight, amount of food consumed, and general constitution I gave myself 17 minutes before I exploded out of both ends like Stevie. We were on the edge of a small, unfamiliar town which I didn’t particularly trust. Kiki’s food bowl was already full of puke. To say this was a crisis would be an understatement.
And then it hit me. I vaguely remembered seeing a seedy looking Auto Hotel on the outskirts of the small town.
An Auto Hotel is a Latin American phenomenon.
These secret sex rooms are for cheating spouses or young lovers still living with their parents. Apparently there is plenty of clientele because these sex hotels are in every country south of Mexico and they are EVERYWHERE .
There is no registration, no windows, and no front door. You pull up to a garage door, it opens, you’re connected to your hotel room and you pay your bill through a little revolving window in your room. Nobody sees you, it’s all discreet. This would be the perfect place to lay low, shit, and puke.
I had to save the family and clearly there was only one choice. I had to get us to the Auto Hotel.
The Sprinter wouldn’t fit in the garage so we parked out front and went on foot into the room. The garage door closed behind us. The phone rang and a woman in an all too sexy spanish voice announced that the room would be $3.30 per hour. Then she asked if we’d like to rent sheets and a blanket, which were conveniently sold a-la-carte.
We passed on the up-sell and instead took turns on the toilet, suffering though round after round of hell. South America gave us a proper welcomed home. But we made it through and we’re rolling again. You can’t hold us down dawg, hell no, you can’t hold us back!
Plus Sprinter Life has a new CLAIM TO FAME. We can now definitively say that
We are the only couple in Latin America who DIDN’T have sex while at the Auto Hotel.
So we got that going for us… which is nice.