When I was in Mexico, my cousin Mara invited me to go with her to her health club. I really didn’t expect to go to Mexico to workout, so I didn’t have any workout clothes with me. Mara said that I could just wear some casual clothes. So off we went to the health club. Well, I didn’t expect them to let me right in, but I didn’t expect them to ask me a bunch of personal questions regarding my health. I had to jump through some bureaucratic hoops. I had to answer questions to a woman who entered all my answers into a computer. Amazingly, the process only took a few minutes. Just when I thought she was done and I would enter the health club with Mara, the woman told me I would have to take a physical. And they just happened to have a physician in the building. Well, the doctor himself took my vital signs. I was surprised he didn’t have a nurse in the office the way they have in Chicago. He spoke Spanish with a foreign accent, so Mara asked him where he was from and he said Haiti. When he examined me, he told me that I should lose some weight, despite the fact that he had a similar build as mine. And he told me to eat healthier, but he said he said I was healthy enough to work out. I worked out, wondering the whole time if I was actually healthy enough to work out. Of course, I was curious because I had not seen a doctor in the last ten years. But of course I was healthy enough not to keel over or the doctor wouldn’t have let me in the health club. The doctor was there to prevent civil lawsuits. So I pushed myself as hard as possible at the health club. And, as you can see, I lived to tell the tale.