The exciting news is that I passed out in dance class yesterday. Dizziness, world going away, coming to to find my sister Mirna easing me down to lie flat on the floor, and a horde of concerned people around me. At first I couldn't understand what they were saying; then I focused on her asking if I could hear her (yes, but it was very echo-y, like being underwater) and if I had any chest pains (no). The funniest bit was when another woman tried to be helpful and said, "I'm a nurse!" and Mirna hesitated for a minute and then said, in a slightly startled tone, "I'm a doctor!" Heh. I don't think she's quite taken that in yet. It's only been a few months, though -- she'll get used to it.
After about five minutes of lying prone, the dizziness started to recede; one of the girls in the class pressed some trail mix on me, and a water bottle appeared from nowhere (we never did figure out who it belonged to) for me to sip from. And then I got up, and we walked home, and Mirna made me promise to drink many glasses of water and eat something before bed. Which I did. And I feel fine now, aside from this cough. Which seems likely unrelated.
And the moral of the story is: Don't go to an intensive, end of the semester, hip-hop class that involves stretches that have you dripping sweat and dance routines that involve hurling your body around (drop to the floor, leap up, do it again, and again, and again), when you've been travelling for six weeks and haven't had any aerobic exercise other than walking slowly around gently cobblestoned European cities, especially if you haven't eaten anything since lunch and have forgotten to drink enough water, and be sure not to try to impress your five years younger, in-shape sister by trying to keep up with her and make it to the end of class rather than sitting out like a sensible person when you start to feel woozy.
As Calvin says, I like morals which don't apply to anything else.