A lot of people know the salt flats are beautiful.

Most people don't know there's only one building for miles in every direction - called the salt hotel.

I had been travelling through Bolivia a few years ago, and like many travellers, I had picked up food poisoning about a week prior. I was pretty much better and this tour had been paid for so fuck it, off we go.

We arrive, take all our forced perspective photos etc. I'm feeling pretty healthy by this stage really, I've even risked a fart and it's been fine.

Next, I get a pain in my gut I know all too well from the past week of pissing out my arse. I also know I'm about 10 minutes from a toilet with probably 9 minutes to get there. I know I can't run because that's too much of a risk.

8 minutes left. I am sweating, panicked and wide-eyed. My friend asks if I'm ok. I say nothing and speed waddle past like a penguin on a mission. 3 minutes left. I get back to the salt hotel in record time.

2 minutes left. I get to the bathroom and there's a fucking padlock on the door. I rush over to the desk to get the key in my broken spanish. I think the guy saw the panic and figured it out.

I get the key in the padlock, turn the key, and it unlocks both the door and the last resistance my poor body can offer. I am briefly transformed into a portal to the diarrhoeal dimension.

0 minutes left.