South Bay Travels: When Journey Gets Tough, Travelers Get Tougher

REDONDO BEACH, CA – Editor's Note: This story is part of an ongoing series detailing South Bay local Alison Clay-Duboff's travels to witness a Hindi pilgrimage. The post below was written by Clay-Duboff. To read more about her experiences, click here.

We took all the precautions, endured the shots, the prep and the pills. And yet the best laid plans go south.

• Hepatitis vaccines check
• Flu shot check
• Typhoid tablets check
• Malaria tablets check
• Multiple visas check.

All is in order. What could possibly go wrong when you are the most organized travel couple on earth?

Well the merde can hit the fan. Literally.

1 am day of departure: I hear the distinct sound of my husband’s duet with the porcelain throne. It gets worse. Now he’s playing three part harmony and it isn’t pretty. He crawls back in bed bucket at the ready.

Is it the dreaded infamous Delhi belly? Wait! We are at home in Redondo Beach with our puppies snoring nearby - this can’t be...it’s impossible. We are snuggled up in Egyptian 1000 thread count, at home.

It’s official. It’s now 6 a.m. day of departure and Ken’s a mess. Judgment call time. ER or Dr? I opt for the Nurse Practitioner. First available appointment in 4 hours. I hover. I pace. I mop clammy brow, I sigh, deeply.

I pour Ken into the car and head to the doctor then to the hospital. Bloodwork ordered STAT.
Influenza nose swab - check. I pour Ken back into the car.

Back home I race about in the too familiar frenetic “Ken is sick mode." I’m hyper focused. I finish packing. I clean the house obsessively. I check in on my patient way too often. When Men are ill they suddenly lose the communication gene. It’s hopeless.

I am high on a cocktail of nerves with a chaser of anxiety.

I do the laundry, feed the dogs, walk the dogs, bring in the trash and recycle bins, walk the dogs again, draft a request for repairs, proof two “just sold post cards, (yes they require proofing) correspond with clients, serve fizzy water and peptobismal, answer three spam sales calls, *%*#^%*%%^ calm the dogs who’ve long since spied our three suitcases at the front door, mop up the dog’s nerve induced puke, mop Ken’s low grade feverish brow, eat a can of Cambell’s tomato soup (fridge is beyond empty), text the house / dog sitter, text my daughter, text multiple texts to concerned friends, all the while attempting to fine tune my demeanor from sagging to more upbeat.

The dogs are literally bone dry kindling on the fire of anxiety. They pace, cry and look at me like I’m abandoning them at the 10/ 110 offramp.

I have a single mission. To get Ken on that damn flight. Kumbh Mela is his 10/10. I must prevail!
I am his Naga Sadhu warrior wife. Nothing can stop me.

Influenza results come in - negative- A&B. Blood, liver and lipase all normal. Glucose slightly elevated. It’s time to kick this pilgrimage into high gear.

Kens showered and now shivering. Argus throws up, again. The grandfather clock strikes and it’s time to go.

Somehow I get Ken in the Uber, propped up against the door. I order a wheelchair at British Air.

As I write this, we are almost at 30,000 feet. Two glasses of Rose Bubbles, a glass of Malbec all for me paired with Ken’s fevered snoring, I plan on getting comfortably numb.

Photos courtesy of Alison Clay-Duboff'