What is love? Oh baby, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me no more.

At the end of my sophomore year of high school I packed my bags and headed to Durban, South Africa to study Social Justice at the University of KwaZulu-Natal. I made it there after a series of plane issues (which are a story for another day) and had a great time. Sure my life was threatened for 87 cents, but everything was cheaper there.

One day we found ourselves hungry while making a mall run. Who knows why we were there ... probably just to eat actually. We saw a rib restaurant that boasted "All You Can Eat" ribs. The price was something ridiculous ... I remember 15 rand ... aka 9 dollars ... but I have no idea if that was valid. Needless to say, it was a good deal and we bought into it thinking at worst we get one plate of ribs for a cheap price.

The first rack came. They were amazing. Honestly, they were close to the best ribs I ever had that weren't grilled at someone's home. My friend John (again all names are changed because I don't know if they want to be talked about) and I looked at each other and had the exact same thought. However, there was no way we could get our hands on three candles, a bumblebee costume, and thirty feet of crepe paper, so we settled on a rib eating contest.

Rack two came. Rack two was devoured. Bones were discarded and more ribs showed up. At rack four we both looked like we wanted to die. I asked aloud to know one in particular "Are these tasting worse?" Sadly, John agreed. The quality of the ribs had steadily decreased with each passing rack. We beckoned the waitress over ... and requested a fifth rack each.

John finished half of his rack before quitting. I finished half plus one rib to take the title. We paid our tab and waddled into a cab. This was a normal cabbie and we had no problems. The night came and we slept. The morning came and we rose. We went to our service station, painted the walls of a disability clinic for kids, and came home. We then planned a trip down to the beach to hang out and then get dinner and drinks. John the disappeared.

We finally found him about an hour later. He was walking out of the bathroom and looking like a man who had just ran a marathon. He looked at me and said "Well ... the ribs are gone. I think I lost twenty pounds." I laughed and thought "Gross" but said "Nice!" At that moment I felt a stabbing pain in my stomach.

I ran for the bathroom and remained there for a legitimate forty minutes. I won't go into many details but the thoughts "hernia" "aneurysm" and "I'd rather die than do this again" crossed my mind. I believe Dave Chappelle called it "mud butt"? Well, one hour, an entire roll of toilet paper, three courtesy flushes, and then a shower later and we headed to the beach.

The moral of the story is this: Just because you can do something, doesn't mean you should. Also, if you are getting all-you-can-eat ribs for a price you would normally not get one rack of ribs for ... you should actually probably pass. Honestly, it was the only time I felt dirty at all in South Africa, save for a moment in a tent that was not of my own concern or doing.