I blame the mayonnaise. I should have tossed it as soon as I noticed it had been left out, not made a tuna sandwich with it.
A few hours later the vomiting began. It didn’t stop.
An hour later I was prone on the dock, retching into an otherwise clear bay. The marina’s Cuban security — as well as others who keep an eye on foreigners – investigated my strange position.
Was something wrong? That seemed to be the case.