OK, this is a good topic for me....
Four years ago my wife and I went to St. Lucia in Carribean for our honeymoon. Beautiful place, incredibly poor country (they collect rainwater in tubs on the roof of shacks, for lack of much running water). Things went great the first day, we drank, swam, snorkled, ate great food, um, etc...
Anyway, I woke up on day two with a terrible stomach ache, but I thought, "Well, we're on our honeymoon, won't let a belly ache slow me down", so we went down for breakfast, of which I ate none. Then we went on to our sailing lesson, and to do some snorkeling. Anyway, to make this long part of the story short, we went back to the room after lunch and I became very ill. I couldn't even drink water without, um, sending it back up. Anyway, this went on for like 6 hours, then housekeeping came by, saw me, and called the management, who came and called the doctor. So this is where it gets bad. (Side note, My wife and I had only brought $146 with us, me having had to sell my 1966 Mustang in order to finance the trip & the wedding in the first place).
So, the Doctor told me to go to the hospital, so my wife asked the management to call an ambulance. They said that the ambulance would not come there, and we would have to take a cab. OK, whatever, so the nice manager just happened to have a cab driver with him in our room, so my wife (I couldn't stand up or really speak at this point) paid the guy and he took us to what I guess passes for a hospital in a thrid world country. Upon arrival, my wife! had to drag me into the hospital as the manager (who came along) and the driver offered no assistance. Then we waited for 45 minutes with me laying on the dirtiest floor I have ever had the pleasure of seeing while they cleared out one of the six beds that were inthe hospital (only hospital serving a city of some 60,000). Anyway, they took me back to a room with only three walls (one of them had fallen down at some point) and put me in a bed with covered with sheets that were stained with substances that I and my wife chose not to investigate.
My head turned to the right, and I saw a large roach crawl up the crack block wall. I didn't really care. My wife had to go back out to the front room, and she was gone for a very long time. She had forgotten to bring our money, and was told that the doctors would not treat me until she brought them a receipt saying that we had paid. Anyway, she had to take another cab back to the resort, get our small wad of cash, and hand all but $23 over to the hospital. Meanwhile, I was laying in the hospital bed, looking at the stars (strange) for about 1 hour with no treatment. Sarah came back and helped me get to a bathroom that had no door, toilet seat or toilet paper (which they refused to provide, must be a precious resource down there!). I came back, and they finally started me on an IV.
Then the large carribbean man next to me woke up. He was talking nonsense, and was obviously there only because he had some serious chemicals in his bloodstream. He began talking to me and saying, "Boy. Hey Boy. I'm going to kill you Boy.". I felt like garbage at this point, so I think I actually said "please do." Anyway, he began telling me how he was going to kill me (graphically). I still couldn't move or talk much at this point, and my wife had fainted and was sitting down on the other side of the room recovering, so I just sat there quietly and listened to how the crazy guy next to me was going to kill me. Ah, memories.
I spent the rest of the honeymoon, save the last two days, in bed recovering. So there's my honeymoon horror story. Sorry if its too long.