It's Just a Stomach Virus

“I’m worried about sunstroke,” said a guest at Maison 140. Her husband was vomiting, and they had returned from a walking tour of Beverly Hills. The temperature was in the 90s.

Sunstroke is life-threatening, and it takes more than a hot afternoon walk in Los Angeles to bring it on. I’ve never made the diagnosis, but hotel guests worry about it.

“I think someone put something into my drink.”

You’d think no one outside of a B movie would say this, but I hear it perhaps once a year. It’s alarming to fall violently ill after a night on the town, and Los Angeles is an exotic locale to many travelers, so anything can happen.

“The sushi tasted funny…”

It’s common sense that food your stomach rejects must be noxious, but if you’ve been paying attention you know that using common sense to explain an illness is proof that you don’t know what’s going on.

Food poisoning is not rare, but the responsible toxins are tasteless. Also, infections such as Salmonella and hepatitis are not the result of spoilage but contamination of perfectly good food with feces.

It’s almost impossible to diagnose food poisoning unless more than one person is sick. Almost everyone blames an upset stomach on the previous meal, but it’s most likely a virus. Google “viral gastroenteritis.”

"The Crab Tasted Funny...."

“No one but my wife had crab cakes in the hotel restaurant last night, and about 4 a.m……”

A miserable problem for the guest’s wife but also a difficulty for me. The caller had no doubt that his wife was suffering food poisoning although no one can make that diagnosis unless more than one person gets sick. In developed countries, viral infections cause most upset stomachs.

“She says the crab tasted funny…” That was not helpful because common food-borne toxins are tasteless.

I expressed sympathy, quizzed the husband for details, assured him that these illnesses were usually short-lived, and gave suggestions for relieving her symptoms. I would have made a housecall if asked, but on calls like this I hope the caller doesn’t ask.

If he asks, I mention the fee. My worry is that the guest, certain the restaurant poisoned his wife, will insist that the hotel pay. News that I am not a hotel employee never changes matters. Suggesting that the guest take this up with the manager never helps. Sometimes management refuses responsibility, so I’m confronted with an angry guest who suspects, despite my disclaimer, that I’m in cahoots with the hotel. I hate accepting money from a resentful guest, so I don’t.

Sometimes the manager tries to mollify the guest by agreeing to pay. A hotel manager is an exalted figure. I rarely meet one, and I want the first encounter to leave a good impression, so I wave off the money. They always appreciate it, but don’t assume I earn their undying gratitude. I did this in July of 2015 to the manager of the huge Doubletree in downtown Los Angeles. The hotel hasn’t called since.