I think I was smitten with a food poisoning on pioneer day, and I think it was for possibly making one too many Brigham Young/pioneer jokes.
I couldn't really help it, you see. I went with some friends up to Ensign peak, which overlooks the Salt Lake Valley. Where, to my knowledge, whether correct of false, Brigham Young stood, raised his broad sword in the air, and declared, "By the power of GraySkull, this is the place." I'm not sure how accurate the location is. I really know nothing about Ensign peak. It simply seemed like a good place for a broadsword to be raised, and a Mormon nesting location to be declared. And I know it is in some way significant to pioneer history, although for the life of me I can't remember anything about it from my Utah history course a few years back. I suppose I could spend 13 seconds on Wikipedia and figure it out, but I rather enjoy the pristine image in my mind of brother Brigham, a broadsword, and a line from He-Man.
I went there with Adam in the evening, in order to watch the fireworks from a higher vantage point. Which where fireworks are concerned, it turns out, is a pretty shitty vantage point. It's probably about like watching them on TV. Totally lame, unless a magic carpet, a princess, a lying street rat, and a spectacular Disney song are involved. So mostly, I acquired a sore ass from sitting on dirt and rocks for about an hour, a slightly sweaty upper torso, an itchy nose from wind and dust, and a chance to sit under Brigham's watchful eye (and sword.)
Later, about 1 am, I decided that eating a Beto's burrito sounded like a hell of an idea. I don't know why a burrito the size of a small infant always sounds good about that hour, but for whatever reason, post midnight is really the ONLY time they ever do sound good. About half an hour later, I was in bed. At approximately 4am, I crawled to the bathroom, convinced that I was going to refund that burrito, and every other thing I have ever eaten into the toilet, via my cranial sphincter, rather than the more common route. After laying on the floor for a time, I thought maybe it was possible the cursed burrito would remain where it was. So I crawled back to bed, snagging a rather large plastic bowl in route. 5 minutes later, I rolled out of bed onto the floor, and did a pretty commendable job filling up that plastic bowl with a whole lot of stomach acid, eggs, and pico de gallo.
I could just imagine brother Brigham watching me heave my stomach lining into that bowl, and saying, "Who's laughing now?" And then maybe he'd poke me with his ethereal broadsword. And all I could think, was "I'm sorry about the jokes. Please stop smiting me now." In conjunction with, "I swear in my wrath, I will never be poisoned by another Beto's burrito AGAIN." Not necessarily because I think I will never eat one again. Simply, because I won't ever make pioneer day jokes and then subsequently eat one. I felt pretty nauseated until I woke up Monday morning for work. So like, a 30 hour poisoning. All because of a few jokes.