Swine Flu, What Swine Flu?

I always get the most bizarre injuries when I go to the Bahamas. Last time, if you'll cast your mind back, I sprained my foot by slamming into some rocks when I was running down the beach and then did something to my bottom lip that made me look like Octomom gone bad. (Or, I guess, Octomom gone worse.) This time, I got scratched by a swimming pig.

Yes, I said a swimming pig.

There's a spot in the Exuma Cays where the turquoise water is so irresistible that even the piggies who live on the shore like to take a dip in it now and then. When our boat stopped at the beach and the pigs waddled in to greet us, I didn't have to be asked twice to jump in and swim with them too. So along with two other intrepid travel writers, I popped off the edge of the boat and into the sea to frolic with the future BLTs. Look, there's even video evidence! True, I am screaming with fright throughout much of it---turns out a swimming pig paddling towards you is a lot faster than you'd think a swimming pig would be---but it's evidence nonetheless. Evidence of what? Of my general badassery, I guess. Well, general badassery mixed with abject fear. And just a bit of screaming.

When I got out of the water, someone on the boat noticed a teeny-tiny graze on my thigh, presumably from where one of the pigs had caught me with his hoof while it was CHASING ME, and it was a great source of hilarity to everyone---especially me---that I was going to get the swine flu because of it."Ha ha ha," everyone laughed. "You're totally going to get the swine flu!" "Ha ha ha," I replied. "I totally am!"

Two days later, though, I didn't feel so hot on the plane ride home, and I started to seriously freak the freak out that I DID actually have the swine flu. You know how when you're on a plane and you start to worry about something and you can't stop, and then suddenly it seems really real, and you're all, Oh my god, come to think of it, I am really tired. And I do have a headache. And I kind of feel a little achy and weird too. And I think my throat hurts. IT'S TOTALLY BECAUSE I GOT SCRATCHED BY THAT SWIMMING PIG. NOW I'M GOING TO GET THE SWINE FLU AND DIE, EVEN THOUGH I'VE KIND OF BEEN MAKING FUN OF IT THIS WHOLE TIME, AND WHO WILL I LEAVE MY HOT PINK KITCHENAID MIXER TO? I DID NOT EVEN HAVE TIME TO MAKE A WILL.

Well, yeah, that's exactly how I felt. I'm sure you know the specific feeling well.

And then I pulled myself together and took a half hour nap upright in my seat, which managed to curtail my near panic attack and made me rationalize that a) I was tired because it was almost 1am my time and I was on a plane, and b) I had a headache because I'd had a lot of sun and not enough water that day, and c) I was exhausted and panicking for no reason, and I didn't have the swine flu, and I wasn't going to die, and I would live to taste those mini cones of french fries with truffle oil we're planning to serve at our wedding as hors d'oeuvres (because OMG, mini cones of french fries with truffle oil! How could you not?)

Still, though, I really sort of hope that graze leaves an awesome-looking scar when it heals. Because can you imagine how much fun that'd be to explain? "That? Oh yeah, no biggie, that's just where I was scratched by the hoof of a swimming pig during a swine flu pandemic. What you don't have one too? Huh, weird."