I don’t do very well on boats. I know this for a fact because I have been on boats and I didn’t do very well. It’s a simple scientific equation:
On a boat? = Not gonna do well.
Yet, despite this incontrovertible law of nature, I still recently found myself on a boat. I’m not sure if it’s stupidity, denial, or some combination of the two, but I willingly left dry land and walked onto a craft designed to upset my sense of equilibrium worse than any badly-cobbled, carnival ride ever conceived.
It started about a month ago with a phone call from my buddy, Bob. He called me up to tell me that it was almost November. While I appreciated the calendar update, I’m pretty sure I could have figured it out on my own with enough careful study and the proper safety equipment. I told him, “Yeah? So?”
“Well, you know what that means,” he told me.
“Thanksgiving?” I guessed.
“No. Um, actually, yes. But, no, that’s not what I meant.”
“Do I owe you money?” I asked him. “Is this a threat? Are you going to have my legs broken in November if I don’t pay you back?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Then Bob asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
Before I could get too far into my list – and it’s a lengthy list – he explained that he was calling about our annual fishing and crabbing trip out of Bodega Bay. About the third or fourth time that Bob called me back, I explained that there was nothing wrong with my phone and that I was hanging up on him on purpose. I had no interest in putting myself through the same nightmare I had endured the year before.
(For anyone who doesn’t know about or does not remember last year’s trip, you can read about it, Here.)
Bob, unfortunately, can be persuasive. After a few days of badgering, and a small amount of blackmail, I agreed to go along. A month later, with fishing license in hand, I showed up at Bodega Bay.
This year, I came better prepared than on prior trips. A quick call to my doctor got me a prescription for a small, circular seasickness patch. Placing the patch behind one ear is supposed to keep a person from becoming motion sick for up to three days. How well did it work? I refer you to the very first sentence of this blog for reference.
I admit I did slightly better this year, but that isn’t saying much. I lasted about three hours without feeling any ill effects from the up and down, side to side, jostling on the ocean, which is a bit of a record for me. I was even having a good time, catching some decent-sized rock cod and anticipating the Dungeness crab that we would be gathering later.
While reeling in a particularly feisty cod, I was bent over the railing of the boat preparing to pull the struggling fish out of the water when everything around me began to spin. I suddenly felt as if the boat had flipped upside down. I managed to get the fish onto the deck and, before I could fall overboard, I decided to sit down next to it. Despite its own plight, I think the fish felt sorry for me.
It stared at me for a moment, its mouth working open and closed as if it had something very important to tell me. Then, it spoke! It said, “Are you alright? You don’t look so good.” In complete shock, I realized that I had just caught a talking fish. I was going to be rich!
I felt Bob put a hand on my shoulder. I glared up at him, prepared to tell him to go catch his own magic fish, because he couldn’t have mine. He said, “Hey, buddy. I asked if you were feeling alright?”
Okay. Maybe the fish hadn’t been doing the talking.
I told Bob that I thought I might be done fishing for the day, and if he would kindly step out of the way, I was going to attempt to expel my internal organs into the water.
I discovered that day that the seasickness patch is surprisingly effective. Although I desperately wanted to, I did not throw up while I was on the boat. I felt absolutely terrible and my stomach hovered somewhere in the area of my throat for most of the ride, but as horrible as I felt, I could not throw up.
I imagine it is somewhat like being stabbed in the chest with a knife, but not being able to bleed. No blood is a good thing, I guess, but it still hurts like hell. What good is not being able to empty your stomach when all you can think about is how much you really want to vomit?
I curled into the fetal position on the deck with all the other dead fish and waited out the rest of the trip. As my thoughts wandered in and out of delirium, I plotted all the ways that I was going torture Bob when we got back home. Vengeance is a great way to keep your mind occupied when you’re trying not to focus on being sick.
Our ship finally returned to land, and that’s where I discovered one actually useful benefit to the patch: recovery time. Less than five minutes after I stumbled off the boat and onto shore, the deep-seated desire to run in front of a bus went away. I felt completely normal, again.
At least, as normal as I ever get.
In fact, I was feeling pretty good on our drive back to our campsite. That night, I felt well enough to eat a greasy, bacon cheeseburger, smoke a celebratory cigar, and drink a couple bottles of wine.
So, when I finally did throw up, it had absolutely nothing to do with being seasick.