Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

I don't really think you're bitches, you guys. But I've been wanting to say that all day.

I am back. I'm not moving super quick, and I'm trying to sift through ten thousand emails, but I am back.

I'm becoming more liberal with the delete key every second. If it was important, they'll follow up, amirite?

Everyone wants to know how my vacation was, which is super sweet, but it's a really tough question to answer. Day to day life, while it seems like it would logically be more boring, has an arc. There's a narrative, which means that interesting tidbits can be imparted with relatively little explanation. Vacation stories aren't like that. They exist, but they're harder to make coherent, you know?

Because I love you, though, I'm going to give it a shot over the next couple of days.

Vacation Vignettes

First? Boats are awful. Awful.

I'm not even kidding.

No one mentioned to me that being seasick is exactly like having the flu while in a youth hostel with a shared bathroom which is located in the far end of a mirrored funhouse with moving sidewalks.

Every morning Crockett and I would wake up in our teeny tiny berth, pressed against opposite walls in order to reduce the chances of accidental skin-to-skin contact (not because we didn't like each other, but because we may have never been able to physically separate if such a travesty had occurred in that humidity).

Stern berth of a 39.3 foot monohull sailboat

I would lay there, feeling like a very very overheated baby being rocked in a very large cradle, and I would think - this isn't so bad! Maybe I got my sea legs in my sleep!

I would get up, put the coffee on, swim off the back of the boat and then shower standing right there on the back of the boat. It was a hard life, people - somebody get me a medal, stat.

I'd go into the galley (please notice all of the sea-type words I'm using, by the way. I'm exceptionally proud of myself) and make breakfast for everyone. As the non-sailor, I considered it my duty to act as galley wench. One time, I even made bacon. In a kitchen the size of a very small bathroom. While wearing a swimsuit. Because I'm kind of retarded. It came out well, despite Cap'n Dave (who had been the chef on his previous sailing excursions) turning down the heat on my bacon pan when I wasn't watching. He clearly wasn't familiar with my kamikaze method of bacon makin', but I showed him. I know this because every time I turned around to eat a piece of the bacon, it was gone and he was looking innocent and licking his fingers.

Dave would give me the warning and I'd take my Dramamine/Bonine/Benadryl/dear-god-someone-find-me-a-drug-that-works-drug and slap on my pressure point wrist bands. We'd start sailing and I'd think - it's working! I finally got used to it!

I never did. The first day, I laid on the side of the boat (on a line we needed, turns out, but at the time it could have been an IV for Crockett and I still probably wouldn't have been able to move) and thought about getting off and spending the week drinking painkillers on the beach while the rest of my folks sailed. I was in a puddle of water and when I moved, it looked like I peed my pants - and I didn't even care. Having people think I peed my pants is basically the WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN TO ME, and yet I did not give a flying whoopdedoda. If I actually had peed my pants, wouldn't have cared. My skin was hot, my hands were so shaky that I couldn't close them, and I couldn't decide which end of me the tragedy would start with, but I was pretty sure it'd end up coming from both ends at some point and I had no idea how the fuck I would make it below deck to use the restroom.

So it was awesome.

By the end of the trip, I was able to sit up straight every so often when the boat was moving, and sometimes even turn my head and talk if something seemed interesting enough. More like getting-over-the-flu than full on flu-face.

Whew.

Does anyone else get seasick? Is it always that horrible?

P.S. Crockett did better than I by quite a bit, but was not unaffected. However, I stopped swaying on land after a few hours, and when I spoke to him (he's back home in Buffalo right now) he was still at it - since we got off the boat on Weds, that's a pretty serious swayover. See what I did there? Swayover? Like hangover... but... ok, you get it.

When Crockett is out of town

Back in the US, back in the US, back in the USVI