[dropcap]F[/dropcap]or our vacation, my wife, Jamie, took it upon herself to ensure our two-person family exceeded the daily fiber quantum recommended by the American Heart Association. “Ain’t nothing worse than being backed-up on a vacation,” she warned.

Her weapon against blockage was crackers. Special crackers so packed with fiber that the Quaker Oats man himself must’ve rolled over in his grave. They turned out to be delicious. I unwittingly ate two boxes before I was aware of my digestive mistake.

“You hog,” she said, holding the empty boxes. “You just ate six hundred and twenty-two grams of fiber.”

Later that evening, Jamie and I stripped down to our bathing suits, and went fishing on my cousin’s tiny boat, with his wife and three children. We were far from shore, enjoying a vivid sunset, when one of the little girls snagged a plump trout, and then handed the rod to me to close the deal.

And then something terrible happened.