I have frequently prided myself on the fact that I do not get sea sick. In all my time on ships I have been seasick only a handful of times, and then it was usually when I was working on the larger ships when my office was located on the upper decks where the motion is always the worst. The two times I’ve blogged about it in the past are really the only two times I remember it being even remotely close to a serious issue.
Pride, as they say, cometh before the fall.
Or in this case, cometh before lying curled in a small armadillo like ball on the bed trying to keep my stomach in the proper place while the ship refused to stop moving in a way that was simply conspiring against me and the entire universe in which I attempted to live. I remember opening my eyes long enough to say just one thing to Amras
Do we still have some gingerale?
Yup, here…
At which point I stuck one hand straight out for the can of said gingerale, managing to not really move the rest of me at all, just my arm.
It’s not that it was rough per say, I’ve certainly been in worse seas, but there was something about it. The fact that I was exhausted probably contributed something certainly. Either way, this weather can stop any time now…