Citation Needed - How I Survived a Wedding in a Jungle That Tried to Eat Me Alive

Episode Date: August 20, 2025

https://www.outsideonline.com/adventure-travel/essays/jungle-wedding/

Hello and welcome to citation needed. The podcast where we choose the subject, read a single article about it on Wikipedia and pretend we're experts, because this is the internet, and that's how it works. because this is the internet, and that's how it works now. I'm Eli Bosnick, and I'll be pressing onward through the foliage of ignorance tonight, but I'll need some guides through the thicket. First up, two men whose heart of darkness are because of cholesterol levels, Noah and Tom. Hey, I'll have you know I've gotten down to cholesterol some levels at this point. My doctor said I'm a medical miracle, but like in a frowning way.

Frowny face way. And also joining us tonight, albino apes fit for the cover. of any National Geographic Heath and Cecil. We are porn stars. Exactly. Nice. You do not want to see what we could do with a banana. Yes, yes, I do.

It's pretty cool. Before we begin tonight, I'd like to take a moment to thank our patrons. Hey patrons. You peel it with your what? Hey patrons, without your money, we'd be stuck in America's corporate jungle of dead-end jobs. Except for Tom is still there. But that's not your fault. That's not your fault.

If you'd like to learn how to join their ranks, be sure to stick around until the end of the show. And with that out of the way, tell us, Noah, what person, place, thing, concept, phenomenon, or event who we'll be talking about today? So Tom will be regaling us with How I Survived a Wedding in the Jungle

that tried to Eat Me Alive by Melissa Johnson. And Tom, you obviously aren't done dropping hints to Heath that there are worse things than inviting you to his wedding. Are you ready to lay it on that? I am indeed, let's go. So tell us, Tom. Where'd you find this, Jim?

I read across this article a while back in Outside magazine, and I thought, this is a classic citation-needed tale, one which needs not to be summarized but told outright without adulteration from myself, which makes sense since I am not, after all, much of an adult. So I'm beyond thrilled to bring you this story from outside. It's how I survived a wedding in the jungle that tried to eat me alive, written, and it seems survived by Melissa Johnson. So here we go.

I lie half naked and miserable in a puddle of my own sweat. Okay, well, now we're just talking about Alestra again. Right? Is it oily? It is true. In the puddle? It's a very personal question. I open the tent flap to breathe, but there's no relief.

Even at midnight. Who comes to the Guatemalan jungle in July? Child soldiers? Yesterday is Chris Walken and the Rock. Yeah. Yes. Yesterday's hike was rough, but the 15 miles today with raw pain.

The mosquitoes were so vicious that by mile two, even our local guides had asked to borrow our 100% deed. Bugs here suck down lesser repellent like an appareteef. Nothing provides complete protection. I hate to argue with you, lady, but have you tried staying the fuck home? 100% effective. So here's that rare deep woods off from 2022. Would you like to smell the sprayer?

Our destination is La Danta, one of the largest pyramids on Earth. It's not even in the top five. It's located in the... Amway is the biggest. It's located in the ruins of El Mrador, a centerpiece of my... civilization from 800 BCE to 100 CE that was abandoned nearly 2,000 years ago. There are no restrooms, no gift shops. In fact, the site is still being excavated. This is where Angela and Sully want to get married. So accompanied by a pair of guides, a half-dozen pack

donkeys, and their 10 toughest, or least informed friends, the brides are determined to march us 60 miles over five days to Park Nacional and Mirador in northern Guamala to La Danta to say, I do. It is our second night on the trail. Hey, girl, so sorry to miss the fun.

Send me the wedding website or whatever. Let me know if you want Venmo. End of essay. You're done, Melissa. There you go. Boom. I close my eyes and wait for Tara, a.k.a. tent dog.

to start snoring. I met her 48 hours ago. Broad-shouldered and sharp-jawed. She looks like she could win a car tossing competition or spit and hit Mars. A major in the U.S. Army, she's been training soldiers on how to survive in the field since before Survivor was a tiki torch

in Mark Burnett's eye. Back in the small town of Flores, the night before we all set off, she'd said something about a kidney condition with a shrug. Nothing phases tent dog. Bet you didn't love your description in this article, right?

Yeah, she looked like she could split me in half with one hand, so I decided to give her reasons in print. I'm in witness protection. I slip out of our nylon cocoon to pee, swimming through the liquid night. Humidity

83%. Cicadas buzz from thick vined shadows, the jungle's 24-hour booty call. yas girl boss malaria more like you up am i right who are you writing this for the misshapen moon shimmers like a mirage i drop my underwear and flash a rounder moon at the donkeys a languid tail whips a fly because my body temperature nearly matches the outer world it's hard to feel the boundary line so i watch to make sure the piss is pissing

at least it runs clear I've been pouring water to replenish the gallon I sweat every hour don't forget to include vivid description of my piss in my article

I write to myself how are your shits Melissa all right well let's put a pin in that no sound emerges from our five tense just green black humming in all directions

1.6 million acres of primeval rainforest teeming with the richest biodiversity in Central America. Shake my hips, pull up my skivies, and float back to my tent. Hey, here's some toilet paper, Shakira. Hips don't dry, okay? I flopped down and remind myself, this is the opportunity of a lifetime. When a mosquito, the size of a Winnebago, chomps my left butt cheek, the pain is electric but passes quickly. After frantic swatting and cursing, I drift off anesthetized by this single dart. It was not a mosquito. Yeah, we know because electric pain and then anesthesia.

Yeah, no, it's not mosquito behavior at all. Four months before this trip in April of 2017, I sat in a collapsible chair at a campsite in Joshua Tree, California. Avoiding eye contact with the breakfast of sardines I had to force down. Sardines for breakfast? I didn't realize you are a victim of a hate crime. Take all the time you need, honey. Take all the time you need.

Jesus. Sorry about the. Yes, I said. Yes, I said before Angela finished her question. Well, I'm tempted to say, well, there's your mistake right there. But when somebody's eating sardines for breakfast, it's really hard to say something else is their mistake right there, you know? I'd met her five years ago when she was a subject in a documentary film I'd directed and we became friends.

An Arab-American medic in the army, Angela met Suli, a Mexican-American endless tea and couldn't resist her thousand-watt smile. Despite the recent repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell, the policy had left its scars. The military still didn't feel like a safe place for their love. Although Angela had once dreamed of being a lifer, she quit, and Sully followed suit. They launched new careers and big plans for life as wife and wife. I mean, if you're getting married next to a Jaguar, it's not a very long life. We're not a huge commitment, you know. As Joshua Tree's cold March winds blew dust around our campfire,

I swaddled Angela and Sully's drowsy chihuahua inside my parka, keeping us both warm. They told me they planned to marry in Guatemala, something about the Mayan ruins, a hand-picked crew, almost all women, did I want to come along? We have this one lady with a mohawk. We have to knock her out because of her fear of flying. It's a whole thing. I didn't want details.

I just want it in. Well, yeah, I feel like you should have wanted details, Melissa. Jesus. Travel and fuse the best. I love these sardines. I love no more details. I'm in. I'm bored.

I was a single 39-year-old living and work. working in Los Angeles, freelance writing and making films, and my life felt rife with uncertainty. This trip offered a chance to grab on to the one thing I knew about myself. Diphtheria. I descended the peaks of the high Sierra, explored the bowels of the Grand Canyon, and snow-camped across North Central Colorado's Gore Range. My future was a cloudy mess, but I knew this. I am an adventurer. Swipe left, swipe left, swipe left. Sorry, um, sorry, force a habit. Go ahead. To be clear, I am not a fearless adventurer. I'm paranoid about viruses and parasites and have a

phobia of ticks. Growing up in Syracuse, New York, a hotbed for Lyme disease didn't help. Anything insidious or invisible is my enemy. Well, it's kind of baked into the definition of insidious, isn't it? I mean... Give me something I can say. see and fight, not a free loader sucking out my life force. It'd still be your enemy, though. Yes, I have low grade OCD and watched Alien at an impressionable age.

Hey, lady, you don't have to over-explain it. We all hate tics no matter how many times we've seen movies. I saw Alien when I was young, and I have fucking high-grade OCD, but I'd rather fight a tick than a jaguar. Whatever moves I think she's beating up in the

guise and jungle. But at this point, I wanted to say yes and feel grand for saying it. I'd fallen out of trekking shape. I needed to prove that I still had the stuff. There would be plenty of time for fear. I am the kind of person who says yes. When he told me he was getting married in Brooklyn, I asked him where in Brooklyn before I gave a hard yes.

For context. He asked to move the dinner from seven to five because it was, quote, a little too late. What are you Spanish? Had I been listening, I would have heard that almost everyone on the trip was professionally fit and ten years younger than me. A soldier, a martial artist, two physical therapists, and several fitness instructors. Was this trip directed by Quentin Tarantino?

What the fuck is that list? My regimen of strolls on Venice Beach and Sunday morning flop yoga wouldn't cut it with this crowd. Yeah, that martial artist could hit throw a mosquito. Probuscus control, yeah. Probuscus control. Had I been listening, I would have heard Angela describe her dream wedding. A super trek to a remote destination that we all barely survive and bonds us forever. Like how Suli and I met in the army.

Some of us just like our partners and we had a little party about it. But Planned Stockholm Syndrome is cool. Who I guess, Melissa? Right, no, uh-huh. Had I been listening, perhaps I would have said no. Instead, the conversation turned to breakfast. Angela gestured to my sardines. You're not so bad if you hide them in the eggs, she said.

The chihuahua squirmed against my belly. Hey, why are you bringing up the chihuahua with the subject is food and being hungry, ladies, huh? I tried to say. I peeled back the tin and threw another oily stinker under the campfire skillet. As it popped and sizzled, I heaved a spoonful of orange whitefish roe into my mouth. You can just say heaved. Just get it done. It's like a competition to make the grossest breakfast with the least amount of preparation.

What the fuck is next? Raw puffer fish livers? What are you eating? I was choking down sardines and row at the behest of my acupuncturist. Hey, guys, good news. We don't have to feel sorry for these people at all. Oh, thanks, Tom. Amazing.

He said this diet would help repair my body for the harvest of my own eggs a few weeks later. And I'd learn not to question his methods. At least it wasn't the encapsulated deer placenta this time. Eggs go in, eggs go out. It's right here in this Sam I Am medical book. So anyway, I went to a stream to lay my mind. eggs and wait for some guy to come in the stream, we'll see what happens. I wanted a sexy adventure buddy and a safe, reliable co-parent to have children with, but

he hadn't appeared yet. Refusing to settle for the wrong guy, it felt plucky at 23, but at 39 seemed more like a game of chicken with the universe. Freezing my eggs stretched out the road a bit longer, but it might be for nothing. All right, so I don't mean to be mean, Melissa, but you're blindly agreeing to a death wedding while eating sardines for breakfast on the advice of a professional liar. So just maybe it's best if the line ends here, Mel. I just, maybe consider. You do not belong in an American Eagle ad.

That's for sure. A fertility clinic is the one place in Los Angeles where you can't hide from the realities of aging. I'd never felt less in control as I dropped 10,000 hard-earned freelancer bucks to take my best shot at having a baby. I'd have eaten the sardine can itself if that doctor had suggested it. Uh, doctor didn't suggest it. That was an acupuncturist. Anybody can legally buy scrubs. You're an idiot.

When I returned to Los Angeles from Joshua Tree, I shot up my abdomen with expensive medicine for several weeks leading up to the egg retrieval process. I did have a partner to help me prep the injection side or hold my hand as I stabbed the dripping needles into my subcutaneous fat. My only companion was the paid model in the injection tutorial video produced by the medicines manufacturer. Night after night, I'd mimic her manicured hands long after I'd memorize the steps. Hey, article, I think we just jumped into another article, right?

No, we didn't. A month before, Guatemala, with my egg successfully retrieved and on ice, I sat across from a travel medicine doctor in Santa Monica. She'd already vaccinated me for dengue fever, hepatitis A, and tetanus, and given me a bottle of mellerone to ward off malaria. I filled out a form detailing my history with Giardia. a parasite in contaminated drinking water that causes diarrhea, exhaustion, and in my case, so much weight loss that my college basketball coach worried I'd become anorexic. I'd got it five times on wilderness treks, even when no one else did. I don't know what to tell you, she said.

I guess bugs just like you. Hey, everybody, this is Tara, aka tent dog. I was described as a strong spitter, I think, with a kidney condition. Melissa shat herself so bad. You're out of the article, tent dog. As I was saying, Tom is me. Tom is me. What about ticks, I said?

Do ticks in Guatemala carry Lyme disease? Honey, they got something, she said. She handed me a prescription for a single doxycycline pill the size of a baguette. Anything bites you, take this. No hospitals in the jungle and get the best tweezers you can find. Oh, and cauterize the wound with a giant burning stick from the fire. Yeah, right. Yeah, always.

Guys, are they, like, really good tweezers? Yeah, thank you. I was like, off-brand tweezers are approved? Okay. I stopped at a drugstore on my way home. The pharmacist said, don't go to Angela and Sully's wedding. I've been dealing with this all week. I opened my eyes in the misty jungle dawn, grateful to have dozed a hand.

full of hours. Tent dog continues her Darth Vader breathing, perhaps dreaming of repelling from a helicopter or choking out a python. I sit up and listen. Hearing only the guttural wail of a howler monkey declaring its territory.

The other tents are still. I start to lay back down, but a tight sensation between my legs grabs my attention. Hold on. Is this loud? No, it's not. I face away from tent dog, cross-legged, and peel off my underwear to inspect.

Nothing. But what is that ache? I pull my right labia aside and my field of vision snaps into a tunnel. Behold. Is this love? No, my nightmare. A tick has bitten my vagina. Just a fucking yikes.

Heart of hearing God answering prayers. One gigantic pulsating tick. the way. It's a weird request, but sure. I miss when Tom talked about cold people. Can't make it to the fucking ice place.

The predator is massive. The size of a pencil eraser with a revolting blood-brown shell and mandibles that rival jaws. Okay, I'm sorry, this is the least of your problems right now at this moment, but your blood isn't supposed to be browned. You should

see somebody about that, too. dizzying heat rushes to my face. I feel the urge to tip head first into an imaginary hole of voice from some deep place rises. We've trained for this, Johnson. Yeah, my basketball

coach was weird. We did weird stuff. The drills were fuck it. It was out. Matt, well, let's come in here today. I mean, like, honestly, I said at the time, I'm never going to need to pick, eggs on my face. Okay. With a pair of tweezers. but thank coach for this.

I grit my teeth and pull out a brand new pair of Mr. Tweedermans. Excuse me, Dr. Tweedermans from my pack. Oh, that's the good shit. The good ones, yeah. I flip on my phone's flashlight and assume the butterfly position. Yeah, it's at this point that Heath and Noah usually block me from the company email again. So. The good part about being.

bit by a jungle-grade arachnid on the lady taco? Nope, no, I'm rejecting the premise. It doesn't matter where you go with this. You're wrong. Is that the folds of the labia make it hard for the little jerk to get traction? I spread my labia with my left hand, slip my eyes, and dive into surgery. And think to myself, this is going to make a great article one day. Silver lining, this thing can't get any purchase.

Nice. The creature squirms and plunges for deeper velvet, legs, and blind fury, cruel mouth, desperate for flesh. I wrote it for Trump. I always got a little maga hat in my mind, yeah. But my wrath will not be evaded. Not today. I grasp its beady head with a firm hand and yank up once exercising the demon from my holy garden. We're like five paragraphs

into this. Jesus God. Fuck you. My posture is so bad. Just hearing us. I'm all like, I know me too. Like, legs across like, Jesus Christ. Everybody thoroughly checked their ball sacks while reading it's right.

Fuck you, I hiss. I dump it into a plastic sandwich bag and smash out its guts with a rock. I swallow the enormous antibiotic pill in one gulp. Then we split a cigarette. tent dog wakes up fresh as springtime yeah she's actually into vaginal tick bites so she's fine

teach her own I've had a negative life experience I say she rolls over and I relayed the ordeal with the gravitas of Obi-1 Kenobi describing the destruction of planet Eldoron she bursts out laughing I decide I hate tech dog You describe you so unflatteringly I'm article about this

Square job Spit Mars You'd spit at Mars I bet Talk about your pee At breakfast I am Perhaps A little unhinged

Oh honey you barely touched your sardine Smothered in Row Is something wrong? I just want everyone to know I was bitten by a tick on the vagina I announced Also, well, we're doing two grievances. I hate and who wants to go next, two grievances.

The group looks up with full cheeks and wide eyes. Ashley, a bubbly blonde yogini, who weighs as much as my left leg, offers me tea tree oil from her stash. I splash on so much it feels like my undercarriage has been power washed with blisterine. I thank her for this kindness. No, I'm sure random oil splashed over the open wound on the recommendation of a fucking unqualified soccer mom will help. It could only help this situation, right?

Jesus. Also, you're splashing too hard if it feels like it was a power wash. You're doing the concept of splash wrong. Angela pulls me aside. Hey, look, she says, if you don't want to go on with us, I totally get it. That sucks. But one of the guides can take you back. There's like a thousand hours of drone video

of literally everything you'd ever explore. on foot on YouTube. Eli watched it nine paragraphs ago. It's a big boring hole. Just a big, stupid grass hole. Just say yes,

and this will be over. But her tone is so compassionate, so ready to let me off the hook from this hellish trip that it soothes me out of my tantrum. The tick is dead. I took the pill. I'll be fine.

A lot of women have thought this about me, so I had it. I slapped gators over my hiking boots, and we single file out of camp for eight more miles through the bush. I know their breathless dawn sags over our heads on the third day, but I feel light in a way I haven't since I boarded the plane at LAX.

No matter what else happens, we've made it to El Mirador. Now we just need to climb the La Danta Pyramid and pull off a secret wedding. A secret, fucko, you're not have permission to be there? Next, you're going to tell me that they're going to dump a fucking barrel of oil on a family of seabirds instead of exchanging rings. I hate everyone in this so much. Jesus. A moment before we leave camp, Sully decides she needs a pre-wedding beauty treatment. She plops on a stump, douses her hair with a water bottle, and shakes off the excess.

Ashley uses the tiny pair of scissors from the med kit as Angela brushes bits of hair from her beloved shoulders. Look how prepared I am, Sully says, showing off her underwear waistband, which says, Tuesday. Today is Tuesday Angela smiles It's time to go Okay I like that her waistband has Like a stage direction for somebody else's smile That's cool

I'm gonna write stuff on my underwear I like that Eli laughs Just he's on stage to the live show With an atomic wedgy And he did himself Arms crossed in silent

Didn't work. Commit to this. I think we're climbing over natural ridges and hummocks to get to the Ladanta Pyramid, crown jewel of El Mirador. But our guides, Alejandro and Luis, explained that we're actually climbing

over the half-digested bones of a capital city that would take lifetimes to unearth. With an estimated population of 200,000 at its height during the 3rd century BCE, El Mirador, was the nerve center of a densely settled network of towns and villages, but the city declined and was largely

abandoned in the first century C.E. You would be amazed at the architectural marvels that we might be destroying with every step. It's awesome. This collapse didn't mean the end of the Maya, but it did mark a low point for civilization in the region. Why did so many of its inhabitants abandoned this place never to return? War. Fair? Shifting trade routes? Alien invasion? Oh, genital bites? I'm going to say it's genital bites. Richard Hansen, an archaeologist who has conducted research in northern Guatemala for over four decades, points to drought and deforestation as the culprits. Over millennia, the jungle swallowed this once mighty metropolis. No small lesson for a group of

Americans about the fate of a society whose power outstrips its wisdom. All right. Well, I'm guessing any minute we're going to get the tick side of the story, but until we do, we'll take a quick break for some apropos of nothing. Hey, podcast listener. I'm no illusions. I'm Heath Enright. And I'm Cecil something Italian.

I think we can all agree there's nothing worse than being invited to a destination wedding. Wasting all that time and money to watch your cousin's daughter get married? The worst. Not to mention the damage to local economies, pollution, hassle, and so much more. Introducing Deceptination Weddings. At Deceptination Weddings, we pretend to be a travel agency to Maui, Hawaii, Fiji, collecting tens of thousands of dollars from happy couples and planning their perfect event. Then on wedding day, after flying in a circle for four hours, we take them in a limo to the beach closest to your airport and tell them that's just what beaches look like here.

What's that? Great Grandma made the trip all the way down to Cancun. No, she didn't. She rode in the car with your mom for 22 minutes, but the memories will be no less magical. And best of all, we pass along all those savings to you. That's right, Deceptination Weddings, splits your profits 50-50 with the guests who attend and play along so you're getting paid not to travel. Deceptination Weddings. Everyone wins. Nobody loses. Clip Clop. Oh, that's Susan in accounting.

She said she'd get back to you by today with those reports. Clip Clop. Hey, Eli. What's Clip Lop Tom doing here? Oh, I'm just going over his notes from his last board meeting with him. Clip Clop Tom is on a board? Clip Clop, Clop. Huh.

Never knew. Yeah. Without me as a personal assistant, who knows where he'd be. Clip Clop. But clip-glob, Tom, why don't you just try Fireflies AI? Clip. Clip. Clop, Clop. Are you buried under non-stop meetings and struggling to remember what was discussed or agreed next steps? Fireflies is your AI teammate to keep track of all of that.

From key takeaways to next steps, Fireflies keeps you organized. No more missed details or forgotten follow-ups. Noah, X-Nay on the IRF flies, fang. Clip-Clop? And sure does. Fireflies is the number one AI teammate that, transcribe, summarizes, analyzes your conversation so you can get the most important things out of every meeting. Plus, it seamlessly integrates with the tools you and your team already rely on

with integrations across more than 60 different apps like Zoom, Google Meet, Slack, Asana, Zapier, and your CRM. ClipClop, Clip, Clop. There's no worries there. Firefice was designed with security in mind, giving you the ability to control who can view, share meeting notes, and even choose where to store your meeting information. And right now, when you sign up for a yearly Firefly subscription, you get the first two months free. Just go to Fireflies.com.A.I. Slip-Cliation. Clip-Clap. Clip-Clap. Clip-Clap. Clip-Clap. Yeah, sure. No hard feelings. How much was he paying you anyway? It was an intern. Clop, clip, clap, clap. Clap, clap. Clap, clip, clap. Yeah, sure. No hard feelings. How much was he paying you,

anyway. It was an internship. Got it. Sure. Oh, see, in Chicago, it's just the red bag. You've got a special colored bag? Well, it's not just for that, I imagine. Hey, guys, what are you doing? we were just talking about what our loved ones are going to do when we die.

Oh, man. It's heavy stuff. Yeah, you guys talking about life insurance and stuff? Yeah, life insurance is one of those things that nobody wants to talk about, but it's actually extremely important. Having a term life insurance policy means if something unexpected happens and you're not there to provide them for your family, they'll still have some financial protection. Fabric by Gerber Life makes it easy.

What's? Fabric by Gerber Life. Fabric by Gerber Life is term life insurance you can get done today made for busy parents like you all online on your schedule right from your couch. You could be covered in under 10 minutes with no health exam required. That honestly sounds great. It is. Fabric has flexible, high quality policies that fit your family and your budget, like a million dollars in coverage for less than a dollar a day. Join the thousands of parents you trust Fabric to help protect their family. Apply today in just minutes at meatfabric.com slash citation.

That's meatfabric.com slash citation. M-E-E-Tfabric.com slash citation. Policies issued by a Western Southern Life Assurance Company, not available in certain states. Price is subject to underwriting and health questions. Okay, but Tom, we don't have kids. Oh, right. Well, then in Chicago, you're going to want your family to use the

red trash bag. Cecil was just saying that. And we're back. When we left off, we were sneaking with a swollen labia up the side of an archaeological dig in the hopes of being just a

little less likable than that guy. who killed a 500-year-old turtle. What happened next, Tom? Despite aching feet, sopping armpits, and a blossoming case of jungle butt, think adult diaper rash. Adrenaline inflates my lungs as we approach the massive pyramid,

which is easy to mistake for a sleeping volcano in the canopy. Rock paper, scissors, loser changes Melissa, okay? Angela asks Alejandro and Luis if we can spend a few minutes alone atop La Danta for a period of quiet meditation and they hang back. Although the Maya were no strangers to homosexuality

and may have incorporated it into some shamanic rituals, things changed when the Catholic Spaniards arrived in the 1500s. Gay marriage is not recognized in Guatemala today. A gay man and two trans... Okay, you stop doing the most. Moussorale thing for Guatemala. That's probably best.

A gay man and two trans women were killed in a single week during Pride Month in 2021, and at least 19 LGBTQ plus people were murdered in 2020. Alejandro and Luis seem cool, but Angela can't risk complete honesty. Also, I've changed the guy's names lest they suffer consequences for being party to our expedition. So why choose this spot for their wedding? somewhere that neither woman has personal ties to, in a country, hostile to their love. That's where the article should end right there with that sense.

Fuck, you guys want to go to Fire Island? Fire Island is so nice. I know there were gay people in these communities, Angela said. I can't quite explain it, but I feel connected to them. I don't want to be disrespectful. I hope the Mayan spirits understand. They don't. They don't.

Is lying to the Mayan spirits about your sexuality, the love? liberal version of Mormon soaking. I just want to know for my reference. Maybe. But don't jump on Melissa's sleeping bag. That's better. Besides, neutral ground doesn't exist for Angela

and Sully. When they announced their engagement back in the States, members of their families cried and not in the happy way. Despite getting their marriage license in California, the couple didn't feel safe having a public wedding during the first year of the Trump administration. So we've traveled to a place

much less hostile. He is the vaginal tick of presidents. Choosing peak rainy season has assured them of precious privacy. We have not seen nor will we another tourist the entire week. This is what a history of trauma yields. When you've been forbidden to be yourself for so long,

a lost city feels like home. Hey, there's actually nothing more straight than being incredibly obnoxious culturally appropriative about your wedding ladies, so you are good. You are good. You're safe. We approach a rickety wooden staircase scaffolded onto the side of the pyramid. 236 feet to the top. Lackered with sweat, I grab at the skeletal railing to hoist myself up platform after platform. My ego refuses to be left behind by my younger, fitter comrades. So what if my lungs explode? This sun,

beats down upon my pale body as I squint and adjust my hat and sunglasses against its full equatorial force. Okay, this is kind of triggering. I did almost exactly that in Hawaii, except I was 20 years old, and most of my comrades were much older and also much fitter. And they were all fucking nice to me and helpful and encouraging, and I fucking hate it. Like vomiting as I go, and they're like, you got this. You got it. You want us to stop calling you, Chuck? They didn't stop calling each other. Did they make you truffle shuffle at the top?

All the time, Tom, and literally yes. I feel like you're a joke, but yes, literally yes. I did a naked truffle shuffle at the top of that. Do you have a tick on your balls or no? Do you still have that? How see-through was your piss? That's the question. The story's incomplete, obviously, until we know this information.

We spill out on. top of the pyramid and dump our day packs into the shade of a single tree. The rough slab is the size of a modest backyard deck with nubs of ancient steps on one side and a simple wooden railing to prevent falls on the other. We're standing on sacred ground. No one speaks. Long, long pause. I just want everybody to know that I was bitten by a dick on the vagina.

I feel like you all ignored me before my breakfast. Also, I hate tent dog. Our guides had told us that in the midst of the Maya's environmental crisis, they had sacrificed everyone from babies to nobility up here. A futile attempt to appease gods for human errors. I'll later learn that there's no evidence of human sacrifice in Mayan rituals until centuries later. But right now, the story of spilled blood feels true. Looking out, it's hard to imagine a bustling city or the degraded landscape that followed. all I can see, all anyone can pay attention to,

is the Great Green Ocean rolling to the horizon. If I listen closely, I hear a chorus of hungry ticks. Melissa, come back. Please. I just want everybody to know that I have swamp ass really bad, too. Anyway, love is patient, love is kind. You want me to do Corinthians, right? I wiped on this thing you gave me to read.

Oh, no. I can't see the rest of it. It does not boast. I think it says that next. There's shit on it. The brides slip identical, crisp white shirts over grizzled hiking pants and straighten their sweat-soaked bandanas. Joby, a mountain biking med student, steps upon a rock come pulpit and pulls her hair into a bun to officiate. Tent dog, the ring bearer, assumes her post with military posture.

I loudly shit myself What happened? It's always when it's a poop joke The poop jokes are the ones that really get Elon. I loudly shit Nobody laughed

I'm able to read it. Eli's going method. I loudly shit myself and fall down the side of the beer. All right. So I know the mountain biker efficient isn't on a mountain bike at this moment, but that's still how I'm picturing it.

They're like pulling a wheelie and going back and forth. Yeah, right, yeah, exactly, yeah. Extreme weddings brought to you by Mountain Dew. Sully stumbles over her open lines. Nope. Suley stumbles over her opening lines. It's funny that you stumbled over that opening line, though. It is.

It is. Kind of pretty funny. Angela takes her hands. These two souls, so full of passion and conviction, choose their own holy words and cast a spell over their future I've never felt anything close to the bond these women share merging with another person

requires a kind of faith I've distrusted and resisted but this altar was made for transformation Sorry Tom usually when this kind of bullshit is happening I have my wife to glare at me not to ruin it so I don't really know what to do right now that Cecil does that for me

so yeah okay but sometimes anna glares and you still shit yourself and fall down the side of whatever it doesn't prevent everything the midday sun kindles the white of their shirts into incandescence i am the weightless reflection of this glow my body dearest friend and burdened on this journey appears to have gone missing in its place the jungle buzzes a cacophony of life in every direction vibrating with its inescapable insatiable many-mouthed maw the sound of life's deep yearning for more I am that yearning for to witness love like this and blessed amid the primordial is to be absorbed to become part of it settle down 50% of pyramid weddings end in divorce too okay When I feel my body again, I realize I can't stop smiling.

My muscles have been paralyzed by a sudden onset of Lyme disease. Life to life. Holy shit, it's grinning too. Holy fuck. Life to life. Creature to creature, the buzz bounces and refrave. fracks and compounds everything in its wake with an intoxicating hunger. It's like joy.

After climbing back up the pyramid, I see everyone and smile awkwardly because I had shat myself. Life to life, creature to creature. I've wiped all the shit off myself with some tree bark, I tell them. It was magical, we all agreed. Do you want me to do the rest of Corinthians? I hate... I hate 10 talk so much.

After the ceremony, hugs, and a thousand photos taken from every angle, we noticed dark clouds rolling in from the west. Oh, shit, the Mayan spirits know about the gayness. Rather than climb down, we stand our ground in the stultifying haze, not even a leaf moves. As the tallest person on the highest promontory, I should be. worried about the approaching veins of lightning, but the ceremony has left me invincible. I raise my aluminum hiking pole

in defiance. Tom, my fingers are crossed. Lightning could no more strike me down than it could shatter the whole of La Danta. I drink thirstily from a nearby puddle to emphasize my invincible letter. Moments later.

Tom, change the story. I don't care. Just make it a lightening. Make it a light. moments later when the heavens wash our stinking ecstatic bodies clean we shout like children who've known no greater pleasure then having dumped its violent bounty upon us the sky moves on beautiful rivulets streamed down dark brown i had missed a lot with the tree it's weird that this episode has more poop jokes than the elastro one does it isn't In a final touch of magic. When we make it back to camp,

we find that our guides have decorated a long table with plastic fruit patterned tablecloth. It feels like the Ritz Carlton. No. Alejandro and Luis present us with a pineapple upside-down cake and a magnum of Ron Bertrand. My eyes widened and find Angela's with the same question. Do they know about the wedding?

But no. today is tent dog's birthday and they want to surprise us well you know they scheduled the wedding on the ring bearer's birthday and that's going to be their anniversary now what a bunch of fucking assholes everything you tell me about these people

who makes me like them less Jesus I have a question though I do have a question does she have to give her age and dog years tent dog years she has seven birthdays a year no you almost can't help

I miss it right I bet this all happened on a fucking Wednesday too pieces of shit Who doesn't are wedding on Wednesday Eli it was a Tuesday It was a Tuesday it was a Tuesday Read an underwear Come on

That's close to do a weekend Read it underwear Week of Christmas The air The air dissolves into toasts And merriment While the red sun Sinks below the horizon

I gorge my body with sugar and caramel vanilla rum, offering a small blood sacrifice to the mosquitoes who float like spirits above the feast. On the last morning, I wake up cocky and hung over and vote to take the shortcut back. Everyone agrees. Let's abandon the trail and beeline to Carmelita for an early lunch.

The jungle isn't so terrifying after all. We've tamed it. Oh, you fucking it. Short cut through the jungle. is some let's hide in the graveyard level of shit. Fuck everyone in this story. You've got it coming.

Whatever comes. We haven't tamed shit. You think? Two hours later, our progress slows to a crawl. I follow Alejandro who slashes his machete against the interminable

intestinal green at every step. Rainy season has yielded super growth that he didn't anticipate. The leaves are so enormous. I imagine curling into one to serve myself up as a spring roll for whatever hungry giant patrols this ramble. No wonder.

You imagine weird shit. Yeah, why was you? No wonder people get lost and die in this park. Angela tells me that Alejandro saved Luis's life out here years ago. Come on. That's how they met. My stomach flutters. It was the rum cake

Mixing with the dysentery We pick our way through swamps That stink of death and sulfur A gang of monkeys Hurl branches at us from a tree The Mayan spirits told us you were gay They told us I

I spy a scorpion Two feet from my toe And lunge past it A fere de lance notorious rainforest serpent pokes its venomous yellow chin out the muck and I stop breathing

or is it a vine no matter press on oh where's your fucking lightning rod bullshit now Melissa right that's a fucking brave when it's not the thing

that's literally the standard cliche for an unlikely event to happen to are you are you thick mud paints my purple gators gray I look like I'm walking on concrete stilts. I use my hiking poles to peel pancakes off the bottom of my boots every 15 minutes.

Trying to enliven the mood. Ever Sonny Sully interviews Diana with her GoPro. Come on. So, she chirped. What did you learn in the jungle? Welcome to Jungle Talk, the podcast about Jungle Stuff. I'm Suley. What's that?

I just got divorced apparently. Anyway, what did you learn in the jungle? She's a podcaster. I get it. Our wedding was on a Wednesday, by the way. It doesn't matter what percent D.E. used. The mosquitoes still bite you. Diana has a bite

on her eyeball. What? Oh, my God. Sully turns to Joby. What did you learn in the jungle? Don't go in the jungle, Joby deadpans. Okay. Leave the fucking what you learned in one sentence

shit to the professionals. Okay. Luis assures us there's only a mile or two left. Twenty more minutes. Twenty minutes pass. A dour silence falls. Estella's knee gives out. Tent dog, suffering a nasty bout of trench foot, shuffles like a zombie. But she insists that Estella ride the donkey.

None of us yet know that tent dog is also suffering from gout and renal failure. What? precipitated by our salty diet and dehydration. Hey, Tom, Tom, step over here for a second with me. We were all having a really good time with the Pinterest wedding and the white people. If these people die, you have to let me go back and delete my jokes. You have to let me go. I stand by mine.

That's right. 20 more minutes, Louise says. By hour five, everyone stops talking. I love this so much. The only sound is our sludgy trudge And the rhythmic Sludgy trudge Come on

By hour six I stopped thinking My quads and calves scream and fire on autopilot Bugs can't get traction on my skin glazed in a slime of sweat sunscreen and deat

No mind Only motion Jungle Talk is brought to you by Policy Genius Let's keep going everybody One foot in front of the other Keep going Another sardine on the skillet

Another date another injection Mimic the manicured hands Don't stop left foot Right foot left foot Melissa you have a lot of unresolved issues That a hike is not gonna fix Okay Yeah

No either that was a mid-story psychotic break Or a really lazy attempt to squeak Past a minimum word count Hours or minutes Later Our troop lands on a rare dry patch of dirt. Bodies bend over knees, hands clasp the backs of heads, lungs suck and exhale. Alejandro slices a bamboo cane and guzzles water from its hollow core, then offers it to me.

Even he looks cooked. Tent dog is dead last. Her soaked shirt slings from the angles of her frame. Her face glows with a ghostly yellow tint. Luis Shirtoff's smile force. can't resist. Only 20 more minutes. Until I say that again.

Rage boils up my throat. But before it can release, Ashley, our gummy bear of light and positivity beats me to it. She wheels on the group with bulging eyes and clenched fists and screams. You can't do this to people. Followed by a shriek that would appall a hot. Dollar monkey.

Okay, the only thing whiter than thinking the Mayan spirits bless your gay wedding is having a customer complaint for the jungle. Who is she yelling at? Luis,

Angela, and Suli for bringing her. Perhaps she's yelling at the jungle itself, but the jungle can do whatever it wants to people.

As far as the ticks and the scorpions and the Ferdelons are concerned, we're just another soft-skinned mammal. Another body to swallow in the mud, another city to devour. I dart my eyes away from Angel's and choke back a giggle.

Someone snorts and tries to cover it with a cough. I stare at the ground, but it's too much. The group erupts into laughter. Resistance is futile. Resistance is suffering. The jungle will eat you. So be eaten. We have fun, don't we guys?

That snort was me shitting again. This is so us, right? My future is a cloudy mess, but I know this. I am an adventurer. And an adventurer is someone who surrenders to the unknown, even when it's uncomfortable, even when it's horrible. Because once you've been absorbed, nothing else will do. That's not what adventurer means at all.

You're just bad at decision-making. When we set forth this statement, time I feel a new sense of calm. It is only 20 minutes before we happen upon a small, bright clearing and turn right to see beautiful Carmelita with its rusty corrugated roofs, dirt roads, and a single horse in a pasture. We have been released. The group's mood soars into blue skies, hugging, singing, blood rushes to my head and washes the backs of my knees, down my stiff calves between my toes. Tent dog's remaining kidney

explodes from her body like a firework. After Cervasas and enchiladas prepared at Alejandro's home by his wife and daughters, we pile our smelly bodies into a passenger van and head off for Flores.

I sit shotgun and hold the muscles of my thighs. Shotgun! I yelled and everybody respected the shotgun. Everybody has liked me this whole time. thank you thank you the jungle whips past my window at impossible speed who are you thinking or were you just still four words short after all of this suly taps my shoulder from the seat behind

and points her GoPro at me my hair is wild my face is dirty i'm proud of looking this bad i tell the camera i quit the podcast i just feel alive I'm a thousand feet high and flying in this magical old van I am La Danta and the rolling green ocean and the scorpion lurking in the muck Hey's weird list going wrap it up

You got a weird one going I am a tick on the cosmic vagina Is he gonna chop it It's really a sentence I didn't think Would be recorded by me Oh God we gotta get that shirt Makes one of us I am a tick on the cosmic vagina

Was like written down And then it was like How do I make an experience happened that I can write an article that goes before that. I'm going to have a fortune cooking. I'm going to get bit on the vagina by, God damn it. I do not fear not finding love or missing out on motherhood. There's nothing I cannot do in this life.

It will be a few days before the Gartia sets in. Cue the Circle of Life from Lion King and run credits. We are done. all right tom if you had to summarize what we've learned in one sentence what would it be nobody wants to go to your shitty destination wedding that's correct correct all right are you scotland are you ready for the quiz absolutely tom they made a horror movie about the tick encounter what was it called a vampire hunter v b let the mite one in c Salem's slot or D.

Cracula. Fantastic. They're all so good, but let the might one in. I like that way. That's great. Oh, you are correct. All right. As loath as I am to do movie puns right after Cecil did, what was the romantic

comedy version called? A, you've got Malaria. B, when Harry met a tick climbing all up in it C, C, Pyramid Summer Night's Dream It was fantastic. D, Mama Maya, or E. Mama Maya is fucking gold, dude. Thank you.

Or E. Maya Moore. Oh, that's all so amazing. Maya Moore is very good. Mama Maya, though. That is the weather. They didn't make T-shirts that say Maya more for that. for their whole thing.

So good. So it is D. It is in fact D. I thought I was going to trick you with E there, but you got it. All right. Tom, Melissa ended that by saying, I am the tick on the cosmic vagina.

I didn't have a question. I just wanted to say that again because it's amazing about what actual we just experienced. That's like that's some shit that. like Pacino should have been saying and devil's advocate while he's given but it's like on the cutting room floor they were like all right al time for

a nap settle down a little there you're chewing up the scene I am the tick on the cosmic vagina so he wins all right next week let's hear from Noah all right well for Tom Cecil Noah and Keith I'm Eli Bosnick thank you for hanging out with us today we'll be back next week and by then Noah will be an expert

on something else between now and then the ancient Mayan spirits want you to listen to our other podcasts and if you don't you're homophobic Jesus Christ To help keep this show going You can make a per episode donation

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