Rough Seas

Into each life some swells must fall. Since heading south from Fiji, we've had the strongest seas since we began the trip on February 1 (it's March 14th). Many of the passengers are "under the weather", the number of attendees at mealtimes declined dramatically. The Drake Passage portion of the trip was supposed to be like this, but it was quite gentle, actually. Our ship is 500+ feet long, and about 100' wide -- it takes some fairly impressive seas to bounce us around like this.

Kathy has used every trick in her anti-seasickness repertoire, and as of this writing, she retains her stomach contents -- but she's definitely keeping a low profile. As in: "in bed". She gets up. She thinks the better of it. She lies down again. Scott is relatively-immune to seasickness, but is minding his diet (watch the greasy foods).

What does one do to counteract sea sickness, anyway? Vomiting is a favorite: almost anyone can do it, and under the circumstances hardly anyone thinks of it as antisocial behavior. The ship has strategically placed "airsickness" bags on the stairway railings of each deck. They've been getting some use... They look like upside-down popcorn bags -- but -- no popcorn. Anywhere! Gyp!!

Kathy's arsenal includes:

• Scopolamine, aka "the patch". These are prescription patches that look like little round Band Aids, that reduce the symptoms of seasickness for about 4 days.
• Ginger pills. One of Kathy's siblings insist on this remedy, and there seems to be some scientific evidence to it. Trouble is... Kathy doesn't much care for ginger
• The Amazing Relief Band.

The Relief Band seems like the biggest hocus of them all: an oversided-watch-like device with a pair of electrical connections on the back. It comes with a tube of electrode cream which the user applies to their wrist before attaching it and turning it on. A uniform intervals, the device sends a tiny jolt of electricity into the user's arm, theoretically confusing the normal "you're feeling imbalanced" messages to the brain. At higher settings, it actually makes Kathy's digits move robotically. She'll be sitting around, and her finger will just gently, spontaneously raise itself. Spooky.

But for her, it works -- and it works better than all the other remedies she's tried.

It's better in the cheap seats

Which brings us to the Joy of Steerage class. A funny thing about cruise ship cabins, the bigger and fancier ones (we'll take big over fancy, given the choice) are invariably located higher in the ship, with the biggest and fanciest forward and aft. Elevation is prestige, we guess. When the ship is pitching and rolling, it is these cabins that get the worst of it. Those of us on the lower decks (preferably in the center of the boat) have the least impact -- literally as well as figuratively.

Steerage class is good. And it's cheaper, too.

No cocktail party? What to do, then?

The crew has tried to keep onboard activities going as scheduled but with mixed results. The cooking demo (which takes place in a theater an involves... flame) was replaced with a food quiz ("What city in England is known for it's meat pies?" -- Scott was not impressed with the questions).

We've thought of some alternative contents that could be held:

	Geriatric Twister: where passengers attempt to contort themselves into crazy positions, until a wave crashes into the ship and knocks everyone into a giggling heap. "Maybe not such a good idea", the ship's Doctor suggests.
	Shuffleboard: Last one with a puck still onboard, wins. If you get pitched over the side, you forfeit one turn.
	Solo Geriatric Sumo Wrestling: similar to traditional sumo, passengers attempt to stay within a 3 meter ring, their opponent being instead the pitching ship itself.
Egg Sit: See who can keep an egg suspended from a spoon in their mouth. Under these conditions, it would best be played sitting down.
Projectile Vomiting contest: Perhaps using the un-broken eggs from the "sit", passengers could swallow them and see who could "go" the farthest. Would not be popular with the cleanup crew. This one, incidentally, was not Scott's idea.

But no, we have "the Mr. and Mrs. Game" (guess how your partner would respond to a series of questions), and "Disney Quiz" ("how Daffy are you, to be in seas like this?").

We hope you've enjoyed this none-too-intellectual web page and hope to return to our regularly informative pages as soon as the weather improves. Which better be soon.

Next stop: Bay of Islands, New Zealand.

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