If you’re in Morgantown past four in the morning stumbling aimlessly about, your insatiable, growling, alcohol trodden stomach may lead you to good times at the Bogart taco stand. Regardless of the language barrier, your compadres inside the truck know just what you need. Particularly because all you really need them to understand is “tres carnitas tacos, por favor,” although simply saying “three pork tacos” will translate smoothly. If you’re lucky, they may find it in their corazones to illegally offer you and your friends tequila shots as you await your much needed late night snack. This will likely continue with you attempting to utilize the very little broken, sloppy spanish you learned circa college. The men in the truck will laugh right in your face and say horrible things about you en español to one another all while sporting big smiles and you too will laugh, unaware that you’re the pendejo at the butt of the joke.
This was the sort of typical Bushwick Monday night lived by Tony Conner, Lulana Begaux, and Martin Simpson earlier this week. The subsequent paralyzing hangovers suffered by the three were no less common (and if not more common) than brushing one’s teeth in the morning, so anything out of the ordinary initially was indecipherable. “When I first woke up and headed for the toilet to spew, everything seemed totally normal. It wasn’t until the violent diarrhea began to ensue that I realized it was something else,” Conner recounted.
When the others awoke in the same predicament as Conner, they used the small fragments of memory that they could gather from the previous night to conclude that it could be none other than food poisoning, courtesy of the Bogart Taco Truck. “We had all been to the taco truck several times before, so we never anticipated such horrible consequences.” Conner dealt with the lesser of the evils that afternoon. Being that he was the early bird in the equation, he had already claimed the one and only bathroom in the loft. Lulana Begaux treated herself to the only other viable option, shitting and puking in the kitchen sink, which was equipped with a garbage disposal.
Unfortunately for poor Martin Simpson, their neglected trash can was overflown and “doodie” was calling with relentless force. He wept as he laid in pain on the floor and expelled his dignity. A neighbor who caught a whiff of what was going on in the next apartment called 911 and and the trio was taken from their Seigel Street building on stretchers and rushed by ambulance to Woodhull Medical Center.
Not for naught, the dreadful experience could go toward a greater cause which would make the suffering of food poisoning slightly more bearable. Martin Simpson is now working toward an innovations to assist those in such a scenario, such as a toilet in which you may simultaneously shit and vomit without making a horrendous, foul mess in the event of food poisoning. He has also created a petition to legally ensure that there are at least three restrooms in each apartment or loft in Bushwick.
Written by Nicole Benson