Human Victory Cigar

A few years ago, I was in Central America leading a very small group of Michigan alumni on a tour of Mayan ruins. These folks were mostly retirees, some even in their 80s. Our trip took us to Belize at one point, where we stayed in some beautiful cottages on Chaa Creek in the middle of the rainforest. On one day, a trip was scheduled with a local company to visit the ruins at Caracol, one of the largest complexes of Mayan ruins in the world and also one that has been most sensitively excavated and preserved. Unfortunately, several us came down with a bug the day before this tour and found ourselves barely able to get out of bed on the morning we were to set out for the site. The oldest, a widow from Birmingham named Betty Paige (!) – 82 years old – wasn’t feeling so well, but was so looking forward to this trip that she bucked up and got into the van with the local guide. I mostly hung around the cottages, sipping juices to rehydrate and trying various rainforest remedies to calm my suddenly spastic colon. As is common in the area, storms moved through as the day wore on. Late in the afternoon, the van pulled up and, feeling somewhat better, I went to greet Betty as she emerged. “So, Betty, how was it?” I asked. (Continued)